


Cover To Cover

by silentdescant



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance, The Used
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, Community: bandombigbang, F/M, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-15
Updated: 2010-04-15
Packaged: 2017-10-12 17:16:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silentdescant/pseuds/silentdescant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You've Got Mail AU. Frank owns The Shop Around The Corner, which specializes in classic and rare books, and Gerard is opening up a large branch of Way Books & Café down the street. They meet online and fall in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [От Корки До Корки](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4171032) by [ReluctantWay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReluctantWay/pseuds/ReluctantWay)



> [fanmixes](http://silentdescant.livejournal.com/356361.html) by spuzz and manipulant
> 
> for bandombigbang 2010, wave one

Gerard logs into his laptop with quick, precise taps of the keyboard, then reaches for his coffee mug while his inbox downloads messages. There are a few from _Way Books & Café_ marked urgent, which he ignores, one from Mikey, with the subject line **ten reasons to break up with your boyfriend** , which Gerard rolls his eyes at and then ignores, and one from _fnstein_ , dated around 2am this morning. It's titled **can't sleep** , and Gerard clicks to open it.

_I know we agreed not to give any specifics, but I just have to tell you about the classic movie fest I went to tonight. There's a theater here in Jersey that sometimes plays old movies, and it was just my luck that tonight's theme was horror movies. You know how much I love monster movies. There were enough zombies to keep even me satisfied. I went alone—my significant other is currently out of town—and I have to admit that I missed having someone's hand to clutch during the climax. I can't sleep now, I'm thinking too hard about it. Missing that human contact, that connection, even if it's just friendship._

_It's late, and you're probably already fast asleep, so I'm not expecting a reply, but it made me wonder: do you have a girlfriend? Boyfriend? Are there things you just don't feel right doing alone?_

The email is signed, simply, Frankenstein. It always is, or at least some variation on it. They'd met in a chat room and agreed early on not to use their real names with each other; Frankenstein had discussed at length how much he enjoyed the mystery and anonymity, and Gerard had been intrigued as well.

The hint about living in Jersey sends a happy thrill down Gerard's spine: he knew his pen pal lived on the east coast, but the northeast was as specific as they'd gotten in their emails before now. Gerard also wonders about Frankenstein's use of the term "significant other". Gerard plays the pronoun game often enough that he can't help but think that the other man means "boyfriend". Or maybe he's just being mysterious.

Gerard sets aside his mug and pulls his laptop toward him, already drafting a reply in his head. He tells Frankenstein about the last time he'd been out with Mikey and Alicia on their dad's boat, and how much he'd missed his—he goes ahead and says explicitly—boyfriend, watching his brother and his sister-in-law cuddle under the stars.

Reading over the email, Gerard realizes how wistful it sounds, and he thinks about the email Mikey sent. But he pushes the thoughts aside, signs his message needs more coffee, and clicks send.

***

Frank wakes up to his cell phone trilling loudly. He answers it with a grumble.

"Frankie!" Jepha cries, sounding entirely too awake for whatever-the-fuck time it is. "I'm coming home early. I'm gonna be getting in tonight; can you pick me up?"

"Jeph, I'm not awake," Frank groans. Then he checks his clock and groans again. It's a full hour before his alarm is set to go off. He sighs and sits up; it's not worth trying to go back to sleep now. "Yeah, sure, I'll pick you up. Text me when your train gets in."

"Thanks, baby. I'll see you tonight!"

Frank flips his phone closed and glances down at the time display bitterly. He needs about four more hours of sleep, but that isn't going to happen. After a quick shower and a pop-tart he actually takes the time to toast, Frank sits down at his desk and turns on his computer.

He's pleasantly surprised by a message from _coffeeaddict_ , sent only ten minutes ago. Frank pours himself a cup of coffee—his pen-pal's emails always make him crave it—and settles back into his chair a few minutes later to read.

He smiles at the warm, wistful feeling that floods his body when he reads Addict's description of his brother and sister-in-law snuggling under the stars. It's kind of a secret desire of Frank's to be that disgustingly adorable couple that everybody rolls their eyes at, but he and Jepha have never been like that. He and Jepha are the kind of couple that grind against each other in the pit at clubs, and sometimes make out in the men's room, but that's pretty much the extent of their public displays of affection.

Before Frank can think of how to reply, he realizes it's time to go. He jumps out of his chair, throws on a jacket, and grabs the stack of books on the desk before running out the door.

***

Ray's waiting outside the shop when Frank gets there, iPod earbuds disappearing into his curly hair, and he takes the books from Frank's hands while Frank digs out his keys. He lets Ray turn on the lights and get everything started when they finally step in out of the cold, and Frank just looks around and inhales deeply. That papery book-smell never gets old, and it's all the more comforting in autumn like this.

 _The Shop Around The Corner_ has been in Frank's family for three generations. He remembers coming in when his grandfather owned the place, before Frank could even read, and he worked every afternoon behind the counter or organizing the shelves when his dad took over, even after his parents got divorced and he moved away to live with his mother. It was how he stayed close to his dad, through the separation. Then, when his father died, Frank inherited the business, and he moved back into town to make it his full-time occupation.

Ray had been Frank's friend since high school, and had worked in the shop with Frank even back then. When Frank took over, he assured Ray that he'd always have a job here, and Ray had just stopped looking for other prospects. They run the shop together; Frank doesn't know what he'd do without Ray's common sense and optimism, and his company.

Bob arrives half an hour later, fifteen minutes before the store actually opens to the public. Frank hired Bob because Bob actually finished college and has a business degree, and because Frank hasn't met anybody who knows as much rare book trivia as Bob does. In his relatively short time at the shop—only a year, which feels like nothing to Frank, who's been around the shop all his life—Bob's become indispensable.

Frank gives Bob a fist-bump as a _hello, good morning_ and sends him to the back room to sort out the new shipment of rare books. He keeps Ray out in the shelves, because Ray is nice and good with people. Frank stays behind the counter, with _Dangerous Liaisons_ spread out in front of him next to the register.

That's what Frank loves best about owning a book shop. All the books.

***

Gerard tags along on Mikey and Alicia's shopping trip because there's literally nothing for him to do today. Brian had given him a quick peck on the cheek, squeezed his hand, and told him sternly that his presence would only slow things down, so Gerard had called Mikey.

Gerard likes Alicia, and he likes hanging out with his brother, so he doesn't mind being dragged around town from boutique to café to cute little shop while Alicia finishes some of her Christmas shopping.

They're in a home decorating store full of useless knick-knacks when Gerard finally nudges Mikey while Alicia's distracted and says, quietly, "I could go for some coffee. Maybe after we're done here?"

Mikey shrugs and looks back at his wife, who's questioning an employee about the purpose of a kitchen gadget. "Maybe. I think there's a coffee shop down the street."

Gerard breaks into a grin. It's been entirely too long since breakfast. "Awesome."

Alicia ends up buying the kitchen gadget for her brother and agrees enthusiastically when Mikey mentions coffee and possibly lunch. They head down the block, aiming for the Starbucks on the corner, but all three of them get distracted by a small bookstore that advertises classic and rare books. Alicia tugs Mikey's hand excitedly and Gerard veers in the direction of the shop. Growing up in bookstores means they have a certain pull over him and his brother.

Gerard pushes open the door, ringing a little bell overhead, and holds it open for the others. The place is small, a little dark towards the back of the aisles, but the warmth of the burgundy-stained shelves and the little couch and coffee table near the front window more than make up for that.

Mikey heads down an aisle at random and starts scanning titles, his head tilted to the side thoughtfully. Alicia trails after him, but Gerard knows she's looking for books about war.

There's a man with a head of supremely curly hair chatting with a young woman—probably a student, Gerard guesses, taking in her university sweatshirt and backpack—and he leads her around and starts pointing out specific books. He looks like the only employee in the shop, and just when Gerard's about to give up and wander around aimlessly, another man pops up beside him out of nowhere.

"Hi, can I help you?" the young man says pleasantly, beaming at him. He looks entirely too happy about being useful and his earnestness is kind of adorable. Gerard finds himself smiling back.

"Well, I guess I just wanted to know how things are organized here… I don't see any signs," Gerard says, gesturing around the shop.

"Yeah, well, we get a lot of different kinds of books in," the man explains. He turns his head to look where Gerard pointed, and Gerard notices a tattoo peeking out from his collar, just below his ear. "Sometimes we have a lot of fantasy novels in, and sometimes we get a whole shipment of nonfiction, so the sections aren't really laid out like that." He shrugs and looks back at Gerard, smiling again. "Are you looking for anything in particular?"

"Nah, I just usually head for the fiction section," Gerard replies, mirroring the shrug. The guy is short and pretty cute, and reminds him of Brian. Gerard almost wishes he had something to look for, just so this guy could help him find it.

Mikey and Alicia approach slowly, hands entwined. "They have a really great collection of poetry, Gee," Mikey says. "Rare stuff, not like in the store."

The New York _Way Books & Café_ has a pretty shitty poetry section, but that's one thing Gerard's planning on fixing with this new branch opening up. He's discussed it a lot with Brian, and Brian has some great ideas for how to organize the store a little differently, to make the best use of the space they have.

"Yeah, I try to keep the place well-stocked with rare classics and poetry," the cute employee says. "They're my favorites." He gives Gerard a secretive grin and holds out his hand. "My name's Frank Iero, by the way. I own the place. It's my duty in life to keep book-lovers supplied with the good stuff, not like those stupid chain stores with their bestsellers."

"Oh!" Gerard says. "Hi! I'm—I'm Gerard."

Mikey and Alicia both offer their names and shake Frank's hand, thankfully omitting their last name. Frank turns back to Gerard.

"Have you seen the advertisements for that bookstore opening up a few streets over? It's like, three stories tall and all made out of concrete and shit—sorry, stuff. I hate places like that. It's all about making money, not about the books at all."

"Actually—" Mikey begins, but Gerard grinds his heel down on Mikey's toe to shut him up. "Fuck! _Ow_ , Gerard."

Gerard puts on his best innocent face and apologizes. He's not going to let Mikey ruin his chances with cute-bookshop-owner Frank.

"I mean, I'm all for making money, but places like that just have no soul, y'know?" Frank continues passionately. "They've got the bestsellers, shit like _Twilight_ or whatever, but not all the stuff _I_ go into bookstores for. Not all the cozy chairs and employees who actually know what they're talking about…"

"But ours is—" Alicia starts to say. Gerard's not close enough to her to step on her foot as well, so he just talks over her.

"Alicia, I'm starving, aren't you guys starving? Sorry, Frank, we were heading to lunch and got distracted by coming in here. We really should be going."

"Gee—"

"Come on, Mikey, weren't you just saying how much you wanted a cup of coffee?"

Mikey rolls his eyes and mumbles, "That was you, Gerard."

Frank looks a little confused and Gerard can't blame him, but Gerard also can't let Mikey and Alicia near him, apparently. He grabs Mikey's arm and pulls him along, dragging Alicia after them. Gerard waves to Frank over his shoulder and ushers the other two out the door.

"Nice to meet you, Frank!"

"Yeah, nice to meet you too," Frank calls back. "Come back soon!"

"Sure thing!" Gerard shouts, and then he's safely out the door.

Mikey seems to have finally caught on, and he gives Gerard an epic eyeroll. "Don't you have a boyfriend?" he asks pointedly.

"Aren't you always telling me to break up with him?"

"Doesn't change the fact that you haven't," Mikey replies sourly.

Alicia starts walking in the direction of the Starbucks without them and they hurry to catch up. "You're such a loser, Gee," she says when they fall into step on either side of her. "You'd better be buying us coffee to make up for that shit."

***

As strange as his exit had been, Gerard's appearance at the shop turns out to be the highlight of Frank's day. He didn't miss the way Gerard had looked at him, and how he'd smiled when Frank turned his attention to him instead of Mikey and Alicia.

When Cassie pays for her textbooks and leaves, Ray's finally free to come over and pester him about all the commotion.

"It was just a couple of guys and a girl," Frank says, trying hard not to blush. "We chatted for a few minutes and then they had to go."

"Noisily," Ray cuts in. "I bet even _Bob_ heard them leaving, and I'm pretty sure he has soundproof headphones."

Frank flaps a hand at his friend and tells him to make sure all the nonfiction books are arranged alphabetically by author. Ray knows a bullshit task when he hears one, but he rolls his eyes and leaves Frank alone anyway, out of the kindness of his heart.

Bob comes out of the back room a little while later, saying he's finished sorting all the books. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and looks around for something else to do.

"We'll put them out on the shelves tomorrow morning," Frank tells them both.

"I can stay late tonight," Bob says. "We can get it done and go out for drinks after, maybe." Ray agrees and starts to suggest dinner as well, maybe that pizza place by his house, but Frank cuts them both off.

"I can't," he says, "I have to pick up Jepha from the train station."

"Oh, he's back already?"

"Yeah, he's back early."

Bob leers at him. "I guess you'll be going to bed early, then."

Frank turns away to hide his blush, busying himself with counting the cash in the register.

They lock up a little early, but it's a slow day anyway. A text from Jepha tells him his train is getting in soon, and Frank needs time to walk home, drop off his stuff, and then drive down to the station.

***

He greets Jepha in the lobby of the station with a quick kiss and leads him to the car before asking, "How was Boston?"

Jepha starts gushing about the band he's going after and Frank tunes him out, concentrating instead on the road. Jepha's an A&R guy for a music label—it's one of the things that attracted Frank to him, actually. The job turns out to involve a lot more traveling than Frank had expected, so Frank spends most of his time alone, but when he's home, Jepha talks constantly about up and coming bands that Frank can't keep track of.

It interested Frank, when they first met. Jepha dragged him out to bars and clubs and Frank got to meet a lot of great bands, but now Jepha goes to shows farther away from home and Frank can't go with him. He can't even find the time to go out to many shows in Jersey, when Jepha's home.

Jepha talks until they pull into a parking spot in front of the apartment and then, finally, asks Frank how his week went.

Frank is startled out of a daze and he stutters on an answer. "I, uh. I didn't do much. Work, you know."

Jepha slings his arm over Frank's shoulder and gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Always working, Frankie. Gotta let loose sometimes."

They end up ordering a pizza for dinner and then Jepha goes to bed early while Frank stays up to watch the end of a movie on TV. When Frank turns off the lights and opens the door to the bedroom, he finds Jepha sprawled across the bed on top of the blankets, half-naked and snoring. Frank sighs, changes into a pair of sweatpants, and crawls into bed beside him, but it takes him a long time to fall asleep.

***

Gerard's surfing the net on his laptop when Brian rings his doorbell late that evening. He had hoped to come home to an email from Frankenstein, but no such luck. He doesn't want to admit—even to himself—that he's procrastinating on the computer in case a message comes in.

He sighs and gets up to let Brian in. Brian's backpack is hanging from his arm and looks heavy, so Gerard takes it from him before kissing Brian hello. The backpack is fucking _heavy_.

"What the hell's in this thing?" he asks when they pull apart. Gerard sets it down on the kitchen table.

Brian moves around him and starts to unpack. There's his laptop, his daily planner, three spiral-bound notebooks, a folder stuffed full of plans and concept images for the store, and the remnants of his pack lunch. "Busy day," he says.

"Yeah, and you wouldn't let me stay," Gerard mutters. "So how'd it go? How's construction coming along?"

When Gerard asks questions like that, Brian turns into an employee instead of a boyfriend. He gives Gerard updates on all the shelves that are being installed in the new store, and tells him all about the angry phone calls to the coffee suppliers for the café section, and Gerard tries his best to listen attentively.

"How was your day?" Brian asks when he finishes the briefing. "You went out with Mikey, right?"

"Yeah, we mostly just went shopping," Gerard replies casually. "There's a cute little bookshop a couple blocks away from the store."

Brian looks concerned. "Are they any good? Is it a chain?"

"No, no, it's a tiny place. I met the owner. I think they specialize in rare books or something? Not a threat, I promise," Gerard assures him.

"Maybe I should go check it out. What's the address?"

Gerard feels a rush of protectiveness for Frank and his little bookshop. "I don't remember," he hedges.

He doesn't want Brian going in there and examining every lamp and chair for clues as to Frank's business model. He also doesn't want Brian going in there because Gerard saw Frank first, but that's a ridiculous thought and Brian would never steal a guy from Gerard. Gerard shouldn't even be thinking of Frank that way, considering he's dating Brian, what the fuck.

He rubs his forehead. "It's a tiny place, Bri, it's not going to impact our business."

Brian turns Gerard around and digs his thumbs into Gerard's shoulders, massaging out the knots. "I just want to protect your investment," he says quietly. "I think this is going to be a great location, but if there are any issues, we need to take care of them before the grand opening."

Gerard rolls his head back. "Yeah," he replies. "I get that. I honestly don't think it'll be an issue, though. I promise. I'd tell you if I thought it would be a problem. You're the best guy I know for sorting out things like that."

Brian squeezes Gerard's shoulders again and lets him go. "I'm pretty wiped," he says. "You want to go to bed?"

"I'll be there in a minute," Gerard answers. "You go ahead."

When Brian disappears into the bedroom, Gerard sits down at his desk and checks his email one last time. Still nothing. He swallows his disappointment and shuts down his computer.

***

Bob, because he always keeps track of important things involving the shop, reminds Frank of the holiday party hosted by a local publishing company. Frank groans and grumbles about not fitting in with the professional publishing crowd, but he digs out a suit and one of his better ties.

He kind of wants to bring Jepha as his date, but Jepha has even more visible tattoos than Frank, and he apologetically tells Frank he has a band to check out anyway. Frank thinks it's probably for the best; he can't really imagine going into a party full of stuck-up suits with a _boyfriend_ in tow anyway.

Jepha doesn't have to leave until later, so he helps Frank with his hair and his tie and assures him—falsely, Frank thinks—that the piercing holes in his lip and nose aren't too visible. There's not much he can do about his tattoos, but Jepha points out that at least one of the words on his knuckles is "bookworm".

The party's in a penthouse suite of a ritzy hotel, and Frank feels out of place as soon as he parks his car. He nervously smoothes his hair on the elevator ride up and wishes he'd brought Bob or Ray, at least.

The other people in attendance are just as scary and boring as Frank had expected. He's cornered into a conversation about children's books and the effect _Harry Potter_ 's had on modern lit. He thinks he manages to hold his own, at least, but when he spots a plate of hors d'oeuvres, he gladly takes the escape opportunity.

By the table with the punch bowl, Frank sees a short guy in a sharp suit with a tattoo on his neck and piercings in his ears. He grins and moves in to introduce himself.

"Hi, I'm Frank. I saw your tattoo," he explains. "I'm just glad I'm not the only one."

The guy holds out his hand. "Brian," he says, and lifts Frank's hand up a little to see the knuckle tatts. Frank lifts his other hand and laces his fingers together so Brian can read "bookworm", and it makes Brian smile.

"So do you feel as out of place as I do?" Frank asks. "I mean, I own a bookshop, but it's not really mine, I just inherited it. It feels like I'm way out of my league, here."

"Yeah," Brian admitted, "I don't really belong here. I'm a store manager, my store's just not built yet. I'm just here because Gerard Way invited me."

"Way? Way Books and whatever? You're managing that place?" Frank replies, shocked. Brian nods and then something over Frank's shoulder catches his eye and he waves.

"Yeah, when it finally gets built. Oh, here he is. As a fellow bookshop owner, I'm sure he'd love to meet you." Brian waves this Gerard Way person over, and Frank grits his teeth, determined not to make a scene.

Gerard Way joins them, and Frank looks over and sees that Gerard Way is _Gerard_ , Gerard the cute, awkward guy from the shop. Frank's jaw drops.

" _You_!"

"Frank!"

"You've met?" Brian asks, glancing quickly between them both.

"Hi!" Gerard says happily. "Yeah, Bri, this is the guy I was telling you about, with the little rare books place. I didn't expect to see you here, Frank."

"You're Gerard _Way_!" Frank says loudly. He ignores the fact that he's probably drawing attention from the rest of the party. "That's why you ran out!"

Gerard at least has the decency to look ashamed. Brian steps back from them, into Gerard's shadow. He just looks confused, and like he thinks he might have to break up a fistfight. Frank sets down his glass of punch so he can wave his arms in Gerard's face.

"You were _spying_."

"I was not!" Gerard cries indignantly. "I was out shopping with my family, and we saw your shop and decided to go in, that's it. I just didn't want to tell you who I was right after you finished ranting about my store!"

"You lied to me," Frank insists. "You just wanted to scout out the competition. I know how you people think. It's all business to you. What I said then wasn't a lie."

"It was totally innocent, Frank, I swear. We weren't spying on you. Besides, you're hardly competition. But come on, you have to think better of me than that."

"Why should I? Wait, what do you mean, _I'm not competition_?"

"I just didn't want to make the whole thing awkward for everybody," Gerard replies. "Jesus Christ, calm down."

"You think I'm not competition because there's no way you could lose, right?" Frank asks, jabbing his finger at Gerard's chest. Brian finally steps in and bats Frank's hand away.

"Both of you, shut up," he says quietly. "Don't turn this into something bigger than it is. Frank, chill out, take a step back."

Frank really doesn't want to listen to fucking Brian. This is between him and Gerard, not Gerard's fucking store manager. He pushes closer, right up in Gerard's face, and sneers at him.

"Your stupid _convenience store_ is not going to run me out of town," he hisses. Gerard leans away from him, brow furrowed.

"Gerard, let it go," Brian whispers, squeezing Gerard's shoulder. "Come on, let's go home, okay? Let it go."

Frank's eyes widen in surprise and Brian notices before Frank can wipe the expression off his face. Brian clenches his jaw, grabs Gerard by the lapel of his suit jacket, and drags him away from Frank. At least Frank knows he wasn't misreading the signals back at the shop. The low hum of guilt at thinking Gerard was hot moves quickly into the background, eclipsed by the sharp burst of rage that overwhelms him.

Frank needs to get the fuck out of this stupid party.

***

Jepha hasn't even left yet by the time Frank gets home. He's wearing jeans but no shirt, and he's digging into the kitchen cabinets for food when Frank opens the front door and throws down his jacket.

"Frankie! You're back early. How was the party?"

Frank doesn't answer. He storms into the kitchen and wraps his hand tight around the back of Jepha's neck, yanking him in for a kiss. It bruises his lips, and Jepha takes a few seconds to respond, but then he's jerking away.

"Frank, what are you—"

Frank presses his hips to Jepha's and slides his arm around to Jepha's back, nails digging into the muscle on either side of his spine.

"I'm gonna fuck you," he hisses into Jepha's ear, and Jepha arches towards him, bare chest pressing against Frank's. "I'm gonna fuck you so fucking hard."

"Yeah, Frank, bed," he gasps. Frank bites down on the corner of his jaw and feels the vibrations of Jepha's moan through his colorful skin. He backs up enough that Jepha can move away from the counter and steer them towards the bedroom.

Jepha loses his pants on the way to the bed and Frank quickly follows suit, kicking off his shoes and pushing his slacks and boxers down in one motion. He leaves his shirt on for the moment; he just doesn't care and he needs to fuck _now_.

He gets Jepha on all fours on the bed, Frank kneeling between his legs, and Jepha twists up and around so he can kiss Frank again. The angle and Frank's ferocity make it just as brutal as their kiss in the kitchen, and Frank feels the inside of his lip split against his canine. He spits the blood into Jepha's mouth.

"Fuck, yeah, fuck me," Jepha moans.

Frank doesn't waste time complying. He gets the lube and a condom from the bedside table and perfunctorily prepares them both, and then he's pushing in, hands tight around Jepha's hips, and Jepha grinds back against him.

Honestly, it's not really that great. Frank moves with quick, violent thrusts, more to take out his anger than actually satisfy either of them. Jepha doesn't bother with asking—begging—Frank for anything. He just presses his ass back and reaches down to fist his own dick, jacking himself off with movements as frenetic as Frank's.

Jepha manages to come first, which Frank thinks is a miracle, because Frank doesn't last long at all. He collapses down onto the bed, face-first against the pillows, and groans loudly. When he looks up, Jepha's lying on his back next to him, propped up on his elbows.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fucking _fine_ ," Frank answers.

"Are you sure? 'Cause that wasn't really okay."

Frank sits up. "Shit, Jeph, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm a total dick, aren't I?"

"No, baby, it's not the sex. Sex is always good," Jepha assures him quickly. "But you, uh… You're not acting like you, Frankie. Are you really okay?"

Frank sighs and lies back down. Jepha leans over him and loosens his tie, then begins to unbutton his dress shirt. "I'm fine," he says again, watching Jepha's agile fingers, "just frustrated."

Jepha kisses Frank's chest as his skin is exposed. "The party totally blew, huh?" he asks sympathetically.

"Completely," Frank confirms.

"I'm sorry, babe. Here, lift up."

Jepha takes Frank's shirt off and tosses it to the floor, to keep Frank's nice slacks company. When he lies down again, Frank curls around him and rubs his nose against Jepha's firm bicep.

"I'm sorry I'm such an idiot," Frank sighs.

Jepha ruffles his hair. "That's okay. You're an idiot often enough that I've gotten used to it."

"Shut up. Idiot."

Jepha stays with him for a few minutes, then ruffles his hair again and says, quietly, "I gotta go, Frankie. I'll probably be out all night, okay?"

"I'll see you tomorrow, then," Frank replies reluctantly. He lifts himself up enough for Jepha to extract himself and get off the bed. Frank doesn't watch him search around on the cluttered floor for his jeans.

"Try to get some sleep, Frankie," Jepha says, and leaves Frank with the lights off.

***

"I can't believe you said that," Gerard grumbles, for probably the fiftieth time since they got back to his apartment.

Brian groans. "I'm sorry, okay, I didn't know he was that guy."

"Yeah, well," Gerard replies, which is as far as logic gets him.

"It's probably for the best, though," Brian continues. "I mean, not to inflate your head any more than it already is, but you're kind of a big deal, Gerard. He would've found out eventually. Why does it even matter?"

"What if I wanted to go back to his shop? Now I can't, 'cause he hates me," Gerard says petulantly. Brian shoves a mug of coffee into his hand.

"Gee, you're going to open up your own fucking bookstore in a few weeks. You can get whatever books you need for free."

"Yeah, but you should've seen his shop, Brian. It's so cozy and tiny and cute!" Tiny and cute, kind of like Frank. _So much for that_ , Gerard thinks.

"Maybe I'll pay him a visit—"

"No! No, please don't," Gerard cries. "He'll just think I sent you to spy on him more or something."

Brian rolls his eyes. Gerard looks down at his coffee, feeling extremely guilty. It's not fair. He shouldn't have to feel the guilt of cheating on his boyfriend when he didn't actually cheat on his boyfriend. He puts the coffee down on the counter and reaches for Brian.

"If he thinks that, then he's a dick," Brian replies in a low voice. Gerard wraps his arms around Brian's waist and leans in when Brian kisses his forehead. "Come on, Gee. Let it go."

Gerard focuses on that for a moment, focuses on the heat from Brian's lips and nothing else. Then he pulls away enough to kiss Brian thoroughly, pressing him up against the counter. Brian makes a surprised sound low in his throat, but he responds eagerly, sliding one hand up to the base of Gerard's skull to cup the back of his head and dig his fingers into Gerard's scalp. He grabs a chunk of Gerard's hair and pulls him back a few inches.

"What?"

Gerard licks his lips and raises his eyebrows hopefully. "What?" he asks innocently.

"What, what?" Brian replies. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grin.

"I just want you," Gerard says softly. "Come on." He licks his lips again.

Brian cuts him off before Gerard can start begging, chasing Gerard's tongue with his own. Gerard moves his hands from Brian's back to the countertop, trapping him there, and Brian responds by grabbing Gerard's hips and yanking him in close. They kiss for a few minutes, Gerard bowed back and Brian leaning forward so he doesn't knock his head on the cabinets, until Gerard finally breaks for air.

Brian's eyes are open, and he's staring at Gerard with a soft, kind of surprised expression. Gerard pecks him on the lips again and slides down to his knees, keeping eye contact the whole time.

"Gee," Brian says.

"You're so amazing," Gerard murmurs, turning his concentration to the buckle of Brian's belt. "Tonight, and just… always."

He gets Brian's slacks open and pulls his boxers down to around his thighs, and Brian's hand slides over Gerard's shoulder and the back of his neck. Gerard sighs at the feel of Brian's fingers in his hair and leans in, determined to give him a fucking awesome blowjob. He pushes everything from his mind except the sounds Brian's making, and he doesn't pull off when Brian tells him he's close.

Gerard leaves one hand on Brian's hip to steady them both and drags the other around to Brian's ass, squeezing and digging his nails in a little. It makes Brian moan and thrust sharply into Gerard's mouth, and Gerard just takes it. He glances up and sees that Brian's head is tilted back, resting against the cabinet, and Gerard pushes down and lets Brian thrust again.

"Gee, Gerard, I'm—" Brian begins, but Gerard stays still and swallows. Brian gasps and slumps against the counter, leaning his hand to hold himself up. Gerard rises unsteadily to his feet and tugs Brian with him out of the kitchen.

They stop once on the way to the bedroom to make out in the hallway, Gerard clinging to Brian's shoulders and Brian bracing himself against the wall, his other hand worming between them to palm Gerard's dick through his pants.

Brian sheds his clothes and lies back on the pillows while he waits for Gerard to do the same. Gerard hesitates for a moment with his arms caught in his shirt, standing in the puddle of his pants and underwear, and just looks at Brian on the bed, on the bed waiting for him. Gerard was such a dick to flirt with Frank, before. He mentally slaps himself and flaps his hands to get the shirt untangled.

Brian leans up to kiss him when Gerard crawls onto the bed, already pulling Gerard in and spreading his legs for Gerard to settle between them. They don't bother with getting under the sheets, even though the bedroom is a little cold and Gerard feels weird about being so exposed.

He kisses Brian's cheekbone and murmurs, "Keep me warm?"

Brian wraps his arms and legs around Gerard and holds him close, and Gerard does feel better then, warmer in more ways than one. He stretches to the nightstand for lube and a condom and quickly returns to snuggle close and soak up Brian's body heat.

Gerard gets really quiet when he pushes in, and he hopes Brian won't ask him if anything's wrong. He keeps his mouth occupied with Brian's and his hands busy, sliding up and down Brian's torso, tracing his tattoos and circling his nipples and hopefully distracting Brian enough that he won't think to ask.

Brian takes care of the condom when Gerard finishes. He rolls out of bed, throws it in the trash, and returns with a damp cloth to clean them both up. Gerard grabs Brian's arm and pulls him back into bed, this time underneath the covers.

"Gerard," Brian says slowly, "is there something you're not telling me?"

Gerard sighs and says, "No."

"Then stop worrying so much about it," Brian advises. He kisses Gerard's forehead and moves to get out of bed again. "I'm going back to my place tonight. I have to be at the store early and I don't want to come straight from here."

"Brian," Gerard protests, "nobody cares, it's not like there's people staking out my apartment—"

" _I_ care. If somebody sees that I'm sleeping with the boss, I'll lose all credibility."

"You're the best businessman I've ever hired."

"As soon as our personal lives get involved, nobody cares about that," Brian insists. "Just go to sleep, Gee."

"Stay for a little while, then."

"Gerard…"

"Please? Just until I fall asleep?"

Brian sighs and crawls back under the sheets, rolling his eyes expressively. He presses himself to Gerard's back, holding him close and warm, and Gerard tries not to think of anything but Brian's arms around him. He closes his eyes.

He's not really asleep when Brian carefully gets out of bed and kisses his forehead, but he doesn't stop Brian again.

***

Gerard hasn't had any recent correspondence with Frankenstein, except for one quick email a few days ago apologizing and explaining how busy he was, so he's surprised to see a new message waiting in his inbox when he wakes up.

_I fucking hate holiday parties for work. I don't even like spending holidays with friends and family, why should I be forced to spend evenings with stuck-up, lying, annoying motherfuckers who don't even give a shit about me? It's so fucking pointless._

I'm sorry for ranting. I wish I could explain. I wanted to punch this one guy right in his stupid fucking face. I came home and fucked my boyfriend through the fucking mattress—which is kind of out of character for me, but that's neither here nor there—and it just made me feel worse. I'm so pissed off at this guy that **sex with my boyfriend** didn't even help.

I'm so fucking screwed. I'm sorry for laying all this on you. I really hope your week has been better than mine. Sorry I've been so busy lately, too. I miss our daily emails.

xo  
fnstein

Gerard immediately hits reply and starts typing.

_I know exactly what you mean, my dear monster friend. I had a similar—though probably less violent—encounter last night as well at, you guessed it, a business holiday party. Thankfully my boyfriend dragged me away before things could escalate too far, but the whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth._

My advice, Frankenstein, is to scream "fuck you" and forget about the annoying bastards that make the world a miserable place. I am working on that right now.

It's kind of hard to forget them when they're as pretty as this guy was, last night.

I feel like such a dick. I'm lusting after a guy who now hates my guts, and by the way I was acting last night, my boyfriend probably knows it. I'd never cheat on him, but I can't help being attracted to people, right?

Sounds like we're both in the shit. I hope things get better—for both of us—as Christmas draws nearer. It is very nice to hear from you, though. Dare I say I missed your emails as well? Fuck it, I'll say it: I missed you like crazy. And I'm just that nerdy and lame that I eagerly anticipate your every message.

Thanks for listening.  
all the coffee in the world can't make me a morning person.

Venting to Frankenstein actually does help Gerard relax a little. He looks through his inbox at all the messages he'd been ignoring from work and finally clicks around until he finds Mikey's old email about breaking up, which he'd never read. He opens it now.

**top ten reasons to break up with your boyfriend**

_g, youre an idiot._

1\. he is your employee.  
2\. he hates me.  
3\. he's way too smart for u.  
4\. u don't love him anymore, and you never did anyway.  
5\. he doesn't even like dating u.  
6\. u can't take him anywhere.  
7\. dad would freak if he knew.  
8\. youre depriving him of his chance at love.  
9\. bcuz u rly don't love him. just admit it to yourself.  
10\. he's not in love with u either.

i speak the truth.

-mikeyway

Gerard groans loudly in frustration and slams both hands against his face to rub his eyes. Mikey knows exactly what to do to set him off. His fingers press down way too hard on the keys when he starts typing a reply.

_Mikey, you're not normally this annoying. What's wrong with you?_

And Jesus Christ, we own a fucking book store, I know you know how to spell.

I'm not breaking up with Brian. And he doesn't hate you. Shut the fuck up.

-G

Instead of relaxing, Gerard just gets more frustrated and angry. He closes his email program and slams the lid of his laptop shut, turning off the computer. Maybe he can try to follow his own advice to Frankenstein and ignore all the shit that's making him want to scream. He kind of doubts it'll do any good.

***

Frank hears the ding of his computer's email notification while he's roaming around the kitchen, searching for a fresh bag of coffee grounds. He abandons his search and rushes back to the desk. It's a reply from Coffee Addict.

He's comforted by the simple fact that he's not alone. Addict's message feels like proof that holiday parties suck for everyone, not just Frank. He rests his chin on his hand and continues reading.

When he reaches the last paragraph, Frank breaks into a beaming smile. His pen-pal always knows how to cheer him up.

 _Don't be embarrassed_ , Frank types, _your emails are always the highlight of my day_.

He reads over the sentence and deletes it. He wants that sentiment, but without sounding completely and utterly _lame_. He starts over.

_Thanks for cheering me up. I don't know how you manage it, but you always do. I'm glad you eagerly anticipate my emails, because I always look forward to yours as well. I feel like I can talk to you, Coffee Addict. I really feel like I can trust you, that I can tell you anything._

Frank's fingers freeze, hovering above the keyboard, refusing to type the next sentence that came into Frank's head.

"I think we should meet," Frank says aloud. It sounds just as stupid out loud as it did in his head. "Maybe we could meet up. Would it be okay to meet? I'd like to meet you in person. Shit."

_Maybe we could meet._

Frank stares at the screen. It takes every ounce of willpower not to delete the sentence.

_Let me know what you think. Thanks for keeping me sane._

XOXO  
Frankenstein

He finishes the email quickly and clicks send before he can talk himself out of it. Coffee Addict sent his email only a few minutes ago; he should still be online.

Frank waits.

He nearly hyperventilates and has to gulp a glassful of water from the kitchen sink. When he comes back to the computer, there's still no reply. Maybe he scared his friend off. Maybe Addict is angry because Frank was the one who'd pushed for the whole "no real names, no specifics" thing in the beginning. Maybe he's ignoring Frank. Maybe he's a really fucking slow reader. Maybe Frank's being an idiot.

 _That last one's certainly true_ , he thinks.

Maybe Addict logged off already.

"Occam's Razor," Frank says to himself. "He's not freaking out. He hasn't read it yet. I'm the only one freaking out. Jesus, chill the fuck out." He talks himself through a few deep breaths and calmly walks back to the bedroom to get dressed for work.

There's still no reply when Frank comes out of his shower, and none when he slips on his shoes and pockets his keys. He wants to go back and check again as soon as the front door closes behind him.

This day is going to be torture.

***

Mikey and Alicia invite Gerard and Brian out for dinner and a movie, a double-date thing, and Brian, predictably, refuses. He's very polite about it, but Gerard can tell the whole situation makes him uncomfortable. Gerard ends up going out with his brother and Alicia anyway, because they don't mind his company.

While Alicia's in the bathroom at the restaurant, Gerard pokes Mikey in the side. "Brian doesn't hate you. He just wants to keep everything quiet."

"You shouldn't be with him, Gee," Mikey replies under his breath. "He was your rebound fuck after you got away from that crazy bitch and he was still depressed about his old college boyfriend. You're not supposed to stay with your rebound."

"Brain's not my fucking rebound fuck," Gerard says. He sees Alicia walking towards them and lowers his voice. "I'm not breaking up with him just because you think I don't love him."

"You _don't_ love him. Maybe you did, but you don't now, and you're just trapping him in this fake relationship," Mikey insists, leaning in to whisper to Gerard before Alicia joins them. "You're just afraid to be alone."

Gerard grits his teeth and doesn't respond, because Alicia's pulling out the chair next to Mikey and hooking her purse over the back of it.

"What are you boys whispering about?" she asks. Mikey waves his hand like he's distracting her from a magic trick, and luckily it pulls her attention away from Gerard's face—he feels a hot, angry flush staining his cheeks.

Alicia seems to sense the tension between them, or maybe Mikey told her about the email, because she stays between them for the rest of the night as they walk down the sidewalk, sit in the movie theater, and drive home in Gerard's car.

Gerard finally gets in around half-past midnight, and he doesn't even turn on his computer. He thinks about calling Brian, just to say goodnight, but then thinks better of it. Brian's probably asleep. He's probably planning on going to the store early tomorrow, even though it's Saturday and Brian doesn't technically have anything to do, because he's a total workaholic.

Gerard takes off his clothes on his way to his room, just leaving them on the floor wherever they fall, and crawls into bed in just his boxers. He falls asleep in minutes.

***

Frank can't focus all day at the shop. It turns out to be a busy day, too; they have a small but steady stream of customers, and Bob even talks to a history professor about the expensive, limited-edition rare books they keep in the back room. Bob tells Frank that the guy will probably be back tomorrow to buy at least two for his class.

Ray handles the last customer of the day, and it's an old woman who takes ages at the register. Ray runs her credit card and it doesn't work, so he asks for another one, and then the woman calls her credit card company. Then she asks to speak to Ray's manager. Frank, standing right next to them, rolls his eyes and introduces himself as the owner.

It takes forever to sort the woman out and it's frustrating as hell to keep a smile on his face while she wastes time and keeps Frank working late.

They finally lock the door when the lady leaves, only to have Bob start explaining a problem with the inventory that he noticed while he was sorting books. Ray suggests they stay late and sort it out before it becomes a bigger issue.

Frank groans.

"What's wrong? I'm sure it won't take long," Ray says, his voice laced with concern.

"I just want to go home," Frank sighs.

"We should really get it done tonight, though. We probably won't have time tomorrow morning," Bob puts in.

"Fine, fine, fine, whatever, let's just do it."

"We'll do it fast, I promise," Ray assures him.

Frank reaches for Bob. "Give me a piggy-back ride."

Bob rolls his eyes but hunches over for Frank to jump on his back. He carries Frank to the back room and drops him onto a cardboard box filled with books and packing peanuts.

"How did that party go, by the way?" Ray asks, sticking his head completely inside a box to read the book titles. Frank thinks he should just wear his fucking reading glasses, seriously.

"Yeah, you never told us about it. Did you bring Jepha?" Bob adds.

"No, he had a show to see. I should've brought one of you guys. Or both of you. It was total crap," Frank answers. He settles on the floor with his legs crossed and a stack of inventory papers in front of him. "There was only one other guy with tattoos there—he had _RIOT_ across his knuckles, it was pretty cool, and something on his neck too, a ninja or something, but anyway, I started talking to him, and he was like 'Oh hey, have you met Gerard Way yet?' and he waves over this guy, and—"

"Oh god," Ray sighs.

"It's fucking Gerard, from the other day! The hot guy with his brother and sister-in-law! Is Gerard fucking Way!"

"Gerard Way as in _Way Books_?"

"Yes!" Frank cries. "And he just waltzes on over, all casual and friendly, like he hadn't just been _spying on my shop_."

"You didn't start a fight, did you?" Ray asks apprehensively.

"No," Frank grumbles. "Well, I would have, but his fucking boyfriend pulled him away."

"His boyfriend, the tattooed guy?" Bob asks, in a really weird voice. Frank looks over at him and sees that he's clutching a book awkwardly in front of his chest, like he forgot he picked it up and wanted to use his hands for something else.

"Yeah," Frank answers slowly.

"Brian?"

"Is that what I said?"

"You _didn't_ say."

"You know him?" Ray asks.

"Yeah, I think his name was Brian. You know him?" Frank echoes.

"Brian Schechter works for Gerard Way. Of fucking course he does," Bob says distractedly. He's not really talking to them, but that pretty much answers their questions.

Ray goes over to Bob and pries the book from his hands. "What's going on, man?"

"Me and Brian were, uh, roommates in college. Then he went to New York and I went to Chicago—"

"And now you're both in fucking Jersey," Frank finishes.

"Apparently."

"Small world," Ray adds.

"Too fucking small," Frank replies, shaking his head. Bob meets his eyes and nods his agreement. "Way too fucking small."

By the time Frank gets home, hours later, he's jittery with nerves. He pulls off his coat and sweater and finds a foam peanut stuck to it, trapped in his sleeve. He doesn't care. He drops everything on the floor and throws himself into his desk chair, pressing the button to turn on his laptop frantically.

His email takes forever to download, and Frank holds his breath the whole time. There are four new messages.

None of them are from CoffeeAddict.

Frank stares at the list of emails and tries very hard to keep breathing normally.

Maybe he should send another email, telling his friend to ignore that last one. He'd had a momentary lapse in sanity. He was temporarily insane.

Frank's cell phone rings, startling him. The display shows him Jepha's name.

"Hey, Frankie," Jepha begins apologetically when Frank answers. "I hope you weren't counting on me for dinner. I'm kind of across town, and I just got an invite to a show, and—"

"It's fine," Frank cuts him off. "It's fine, I was just going to order a pizza or something."

"I don't think I'll be back tonight," Jepha adds.

"It's fine," Frank says again. "Have fun, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, I will. Enjoy your pizza."

Neither of them say goodbye before Jepha hangs up. Frank stares down at his phone and considers actually ordering a pizza, though he hadn't planned to at all.

He should probably give CoffeeAddict some time to think it over before he jumps to any conclusions.

Frank settles into his couch half an hour later with a hot pizza box on his lap and the beginnings of a _Lord of the Rings_ marathon playing on the television. He tries to ignore the apprehension gnawing at his guts.

***

There was no response when Frank went to bed last night, but there is one this morning. Frank nearly drops his mug of coffee in surprise.

_Frankenstein,_

I'm really sorry it took me a while to respond. You must've been going crazy waiting. At least, I selfishly hope you were. I consider you one of my closest friends, and I do trust you, and I agree. I think we should meet. I would love to meet you in person.

I know you live in Jersey; I believe I've mentioned it before, but so do I. North Jersey. Maybe we could find a café in Newark, if that works for you? I don't have a lot to do until the new year, so let me know when would be convenient for your schedule.

Thanks for suggesting this. I think it would be good for us. I could certainly use a friend right now.

Eagerly anticipating the when and where,  
let's meet for **coffee** , I need coffee, give me more coffee

Frank is so relieved.

***

Gerard's on the phone with Brian when his laptop lets him know he has a new email. He stops listening to whatever Brian's saying about shipments and schedules and hiring people—what _ever_ , he doesn't care right now.

Frankenstein lives in downtown Newark. He gets off work at six during the week, and he suggests Wednesday. He also tells Gerard about a few cafés within walking distance from his work, so he could go straight there.

Gerard practically leaps out of his seat in excitement. It's going to happen, he's finally going to meet the man behind the virtual monster mask. He wedges the phone between his ear and his shoulder and starts typing a reply to Frankenstein.

He's heard of two of the places Frankenstein suggested, so he picks the one he's more familiar with and confirms his availability on Wednesday night.

"Gerard? Gee? Are you listening? Are you even there, Gerard? Hello?" Brian's voice filters through Gerard's brain.

"Fuck! Sorry, Brian, sorry, I wasn't paying attention. I'm here, yes. I'm listening now. Sorry."

"Gerard, this is kind of important," Brian says, and Gerard recognizes his annoyed voice even though Brian's trying to hide it. "This is your store, you need to take an interest."

"I trust you," Gerard replies earnestly. "Just do whatever you think is best. I gotta go, okay? Love you, bye!"

He dials Mikey's number as soon as he hangs up with Brian.

"Mikes! I have a date."

"What?"

"I mean, it's not really a date. Remember that guy I told you about, the one I met online? He suggested we meet up. He lives in the city! He could be my next-door neighbor for all I know!"

"You have a date with some random guy you met on the internet?" Mikey asks, deadpan.

"It's not really a date, though. I mean, we both have boyfriends. We're just going to meet and talk and stuff. I'm finally gonna meet him, Mikey!"

"What about Brian?"

"What about him?" Gerard asks, failing to see the point.

"Does he know you're meeting a guy?"

 _Oh_. "No," Gerard replies hesitantly. "But it's not really a _date_. We're just friends."

Mikey makes a little huffing noise.

"What?"

"You don't love Brian anymore."

"Mikey, he's my boyfriend and I love him. Shut up," Gerard says stiffly. "Stop saying we should break up."

"Fine, whatever. When's your date with this guy? Do you even know his name?"

Gerard breaks into a smile again. "I don't know his name. I just call him Frankenstein. He loves horror movies, and he said his birthday is on Halloween. How cool is that? We're gonna meet for coffee on Wednesday night."

"Cool," Mikey says, emotionless. "Have fun. Wear a condom."

"Jesus, Mikey."

***

Frank gets another message right before he leaves for work. He drops his keys and stack of books and sits down at his desk again. So what if he's a few minutes late; it's Saturday. Saturdays are always slow in the mornings.

CoffeeAddict confirms the time and location—Frank's favorite café, so he'll at least have that bit of comfort—and asks how they'll recognize each other. Frank grins.

_Well, I don't want to suggest anything as cheesy or romantic as a red rose, but I'll most likely be carrying a stack of old books with me, if I'm coming straight from work. And I have a pair of gloves with bones on them, like a skeleton. Is that enough for you to identify me? Let me know something you'll be wearing._

I can't wait to meet you.

xoxo  
f

He can't keep the grin off his face as he walks to work, and Ray teases him mercilessly when Frank explains why he's late.

***


	2. Chapter 2

"Mikey, come with me."

"On your _date_? Fuck no."

"Mikeeey. Mikey, please? Mikey, Mikey, Mikey, I need you, please?"

"Are you sure you're the _younger_ brother?" Alicia asks Mikey under her breath, rubbing her temples. "Just go with him if it'll shut him up, babe."

"Why do you want me there, anyway?" Mikey grumbles.

"Moral support?" Gerard tries hopefully. He doesn't want to admit that he's scared out of his mind, but he kind of is. What if Frankenstein turns out to be a total freak? What if he doesn't like Gerard once they meet? What if he doesn't recognize Gerard's red scarf? What if he never even shows up?

Gerard pulls Mikey close. "Please, Mikes, you don't have to stay. Just make sure I'm not going to be murdered or anything, and then you can go home. I'm freaking myself out, Mikeyway, please."

Mikey rolls his eyes and shoves Gerard away. "Yeah, fine, okay. I'll come."

Gerard bounces on his heels, the excitement rushing back, while Mikey takes his coat out of the closet and shrugs it on. He has to restrain himself from hurrying Mikey along. They have time; it just _feels_ like they're going to be late.

The walk to the café is silent; Gerard tries to push his fears and nervousness aside, and just having Mikey there beside him helps. When they get to the cozy-looking place, Gerard freezes outside the door.

"Can you look in for me?"

"What?"

"See if he's there yet. He said he'll have books and skeleton gloves. Just look for me, please. See if he's like, some old, fat, bald dude or something. Please?" Gerard puts on his most pitiful face and hunches his shoulders a little until Mikey shakes his head at Gerard's idiocy and agrees to look.

He walks casually around to one of the windows and looks in, while Gerard keeps to the shadows.

"Books? And gloves?"

"Yeah. Is he there?"

"I don't know, it's kind of crowded."

" _Mikey_ —"

"Wait, wait, there's some books."

"Well?"

"I don't know, there's somebody standing in the way. But there's definitely a stack of books."

Gerard bites his lip and nudges Mikey further in front of the window. "Can you see him yet?"

"Um…"

"Mikey?"

"…Yeah."

Gerard rubs his gloved hands together excitedly. "Yes? What's he look like? Is he cute? He sounds cute in his emails."

"Yeah, he's cute."

"What's he like? Come one, dude, give me something!"

"You would definitely like him. He's got tattoos on his neck."

"Fuck, it's not Brian, is it?"

"No… But he's…"

" _Mikey_ —"

Mikey steps away from the window and grabs the collar of Gerard's jacket. "Just fucking see for yourself."

Mikey drags him over to the window and pushes him up against the glass. Gerard spots the table with the books immediately, and sees a skeleton-gloved hand splayed across the open pages of one of the hardcovers. The man is young, from what Gerard can see; he's thin and wearing a black hoodie and a collared white shirt underneath, and yes, there are glimpses of tattoos peeking out above the collar but beneath his dark brown hair, and really, he's kind of familiar. Gerard can't quite place him, just seeing his back, but he's definitely seen this guy before.

Then the door of the café opens as somebody leaves and Frankenstein turns around to look, and it's—it's—

It's Frank.

"It's Frank!" he cries. "It's Frank? How can it be Frank? Oh my god, Mikey, it's Frank. It's cute-guy-from-the-bookshop, hates-my-guts Frank. Oh god. I'm so screwed. I can't go in there now!"

"Fucking hell, Gerard, calm the fuck down," Mikey mutters, reaching out and patting Gerard heavily on the shoulder.

"We have to go. We have to leave. I can't let him see me. He hates me!"

"Do you hate him?"

"No! But that's not the point. We have to go before he sees me."

The door opens again, this time as someone walks in. Gerard watches Frank twist around in his chair and look, his eyes hopeful and the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown. After a moment, he sighs and turns back to his book. He hunches over it, his chin resting on one hand, and he looks miserable. Gerard checks his watch; he's almost fifteen minutes late.

Gerard feels suddenly guilty. He'd been so worried about Frank standing him up, and he knows that Frank must've been insanely anxious about this whole meeting in the first place, given how carefully he guards his identity. He can't leave Frank hanging like this.

Mikey seems to realize this as soon as Gerard does, or maybe even before Gerard does. He nudges Gerard towards the door.

"Should I take off my scarf?"

"Leave it on. Maybe he'll get over himself and be friendly." Mikey straightens Gerard's jacket and fluffs his scarf a little. "Do you want me to come in with you?"

"No, I should go alone. Stay out here in case he kicks me out, though." Gerard takes a deep breath. "How do I look?"

Mikey gives him a rare smile. "You look good, Gee. Good luck."

Gerard nods and heads for the door. He goes straight to the counter to order a cup of coffee, without even looking at Frank. He knows Frank's watching him. He knows Frank can see the red scarf, and he knows Frank will recognize him.

Coffee in hand, Gerard turns around to face the rest of the café. Frank is staring at him. Gerard grins and waves, wondering if Frank made the connection.

"Frank!"

"Gerard?"

"Hi!" He gestures to the seat across from Frank. "Can I sit?"

"I'm waiting for someone," Frank replies stiffly. "What are you doing here?"

Gerard remains standing and tries not to let his disappointment show. "I live near here, and I love coffee," he answers simply. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Can you, uh, not stand there? I'm waiting for someone," Frank says again.

"Okay, sure," Gerard says easily. He sits down at the table next to Frank's to continue talking to him. "How's the shop? I wanted to come back, do a little last-minute Christmas shopping for my sister-in-law, but I wasn't sure you'd be particularly pleased to see me."

"I'm not particularly pleased to see you now," Frank snaps. "Don't you already know how my shop's doing? I'm sure you send spies in every day."

"Frank," Gerard says, genuinely shocked. "I've never wanted to spy on you. I wouldn't do that."

"You're such a fucking liar."

The door of the café opens, letting in a cold rush of air, and Frank whips around to see who came in. It's a pair of girls, giggling to each other as they approach the counter. Frank sighs and turns around again, and it's on the tip of Gerard's tongue to admit everything and apologize.

"Not who you're waiting for, then?" he asks instead, as gently as he can.

"No," Frank mutters. "He's late."

"Your boyfriend?"

Frank lifts his head and glares at Gerard. " _No_."

"You look nice. All dressed up. I figured you were out on a date."

Frank sighs again. He looks so _sad_ , and his lips are pulled into a tense grimace. "Not really. I've never met him before, I just wanted to make a good impression," he explains in a low voice. "He's probably not coming."

"How do you know him?" Gerard asks. He sips his coffee and fiddles with the fringe of his scarf, wondering if Frank even noticed its color.

Frank blushes, and that's quite a sight to see. His cheeks and ears flush red and he stares down at his open book. "I met him online."

Gerard can't help but grin. He turns sideways in his chair to face Frank and rests his arms on the back of it. "How are you gonna recognize him? How late is he, anyway?"

Frank glances down at his watch and mutters, "Like twenty minutes. He's supposed to be wearing a red scarf and a black coat."

The door opens and they both turn to look. The man who walks in doesn't fit Frank's description, of course, and Frank sighs again.

"He's probably not coming."

"Maybe he got held up," Gerard replies encouragingly. He nods at the empty seat at Frank's table. "Can I join you, then? If he shows up, I'll leave, I promise."

"No!" Frank says shrilly. "No, I don't want you to sit here. No, I don't want you to come to my shop. _No_ , I don't want to talk to you. _No_ , I don't ever want to see you again. Can't you understand the word no?"

Gerard sits back in his chair, blinking rapidly. He hadn't realized Frank was so… _upset_ with him. He takes a quick breath and forces his face into a neutral expression, betraying none of the hurt. He hates hiding his feelings, but Gerard knows he's gotten pretty good at it over the years.

"Okay, I'll just go."

He stands up and winds the scarf around his neck a few times, then looks down at Frank, who's watching him with a guarded expression.

"I'm sorry, Frank. I hope your friend shows up."

He doesn't look back as he walks out of the café, even though Frank calls his name like a half-hearted apology. Mikey's waiting for him outside, smoking. He gives Gerard his cigarette.

"Didn't go well," he says, more like a statement than a question. Gerard doesn't know if Mikey had been watching or not.

"No," he mutters, exhaling smoke up towards the sky. "It did not go well."

"I'm sorry," Mikey says, and he sounds uncharacteristically sincere. "Let's go home, Gee."

***

Frank hadn't missed the flash of hurt that had appeared on Gerard's face before Gerard regained control over his features. He feels kind of bad for causing that, because Gerard had been somewhat friendly to him. A lot friendly, really, if Frank's being honest.

He looks down at his book after Gerard leaves, but he can't concentrate on the words. A few minutes later, he feels a cold breeze and looks over his shoulder, but it's just somebody leaving the café.

Frank waits another hour before finally giving up and going home.

Jepha's out again, which was the whole reason Frank had chosen tonight for the meeting, and Frank sits down at his desk feeling utterly miserable. He hopes Addict didn't take one look at him and leave without even saying hello. Addict seems too genuine, too friendly for that to be true, though, and besides, Frank had been early to the café, and he hadn't seen anyone in a red scarf except Gerard fucking Way.

He starts typing an email.

***

 _Coffee Addict,_

I waited for you tonight. I won't lie and say I wasn't disappointed when I didn't see you, because I really wanted us to meet. I hope this is just a misunderstanding. You're still my closest friend, and I still want to trust you. You don't seem like the type to just… not show up.

Instead of you walking through that door and sitting down next to me, my rival, the man I fought with at that party showed up and tried to talk to me. I got angry at him; I don't even remember why. I think I was mostly just frustrated that you weren't there. I overreacted and it didn't help either of us, and I even feel bad about it now. I was kind of an asshole to him, and for once, he didn't deserve that.

I'm sorry. If you had second thoughts about meeting me in person, please just tell me. I promise I'll understand. My friendship with you has meant so much to me, especially in recent weeks. I'll always appreciate that.

-Frankenstein

Gerard's heart breaks a little bit when he reads Frank's email the next morning. The timecode says it was sent last night, probably soon after Frank got home from the café. Gerard wonders how long Frank waited there for a man who was never going to show up.

He can't bring himself to answer Frank's email yet. He doesn't know what to say. Part of him wants to confess, but that would ruin the friendship he has with Frank on the internet as well as any chance Gerard has of becoming friends with Frank in person.

He leaves the message open on his computer, as a reminder, and tries to go about his day without getting too distracted by it. Gerard throws himself into work for the first time in weeks, surprising Mikey and making Brian suspicious.

Brian's grateful, though. He drags Gerard around the empty building, pointing out the workers installing shelves, the loading bay for new shipments, the color swatches for all the upholstery and carpet, everything. Gerard hadn't realized how much he'd been ignoring.

Brian finally takes Gerard up to the top floor, where the offices have already been finished and furnished. There's nobody working in them yet, but Brian has a room with his name on the door and his desk organized, and he leads Gerard inside.

Gerard drops into the chair and instead of sitting behind his desk, Brian pulls up the extra chair and sits beside him.

"What's going on?" he asks. "I've been working for you for over a year and dating you for almost as long. I can tell when something's wrong."

Gerard sighs. "I just felt bad for not being more involved," he tries, but Brian doesn't fall for it. He gives Gerard a stern look. "I'm an idiot. It's nothing."

Brian looks skeptical, but he lets it go. "If you're sure."

"I just need to get over myself," Gerard says. He flaps his hand as if it could distract Brian. "Is everything on schedule? Besides the shelves, I mean."

Brain leans over and takes a folder off the desk. When he flips it open, Gerard catches a glimpse of a color-coded calendar with a huge list printed next to it, in very small type. At least Brian's on top of things.

***

There's no reply to his email when Frank leaves for work, and he tries not to think of what that might mean. As usual, Ray is waiting at the shop for Frank to open the doors. He takes the books from Frank's hands and goes to put them back on their correct shelves, and then turns to look at Frank over his shoulder.

"What happened with that guy? Did it not go well?"

"Is it that obvious?" Frank asks, smiling sadly. "No, it didn't go well. He never showed up."

"He stood you up?"

Frank waves his hand in a vague gesture that doesn't really explain anything. "No! Well… Shut up!" He sits down behind the counter and turns on the shop computer. Ray comes over to him.

"How long did you wait for him?" he asks sympathetically.

"Fucking hour and a half," Frank mutters. "Never showed up. But you know who did?"

"Who?"

"You know that guy, Gerard, from Way Books? Gerard Way? He's like the owner or something. He came in here once, with his brother."

"He was there?" Ray says incredulously.

"Yeah, he was like, 'I live around here, and I love coffee, so I'm in here a lot!' and then the fucker sat down next to me! It was like he was actively trying to ruin my date," Frank explains, jabbing at the keyboard with unnecessary force.

"I thought you said it wasn't a date."

"Well, I mean—Jepha's not home, and it wasn't a date anyway, so shut up before you even say anything."

"But he stood you up, so it doesn't really matter," Ray points out.

"He didn't stand me up!" Frank cries. "He was probably just… detained."

"Detained? Like 'stuck in traffic for an hour and a half' kind of detained?"

Frank ignores Ray's skepticism and nods. "Yeah, like, maybe he got held up at work, and then there was traffic, and he doesn't have my number, so it's not like he could call."

Ray nods too, warming to the idea. "You know, I heard there was some kind of accident downtown last night, maybe he was caught up in that!"

Frank gasps. "What if he was in the accident! He hasn't responded to my email or anything! Oh, oh my god, he's probably in the hospital right now."

Neither of them turns when the door opens; the shop doesn't open for another half an hour. Bob walks in carrying a newspaper and a cardboard box, which he drops onto the counter next to Frank's elbow.

"What's going on?" he asks, taking in Ray's open-mouthed horror.

"He wouldn't have a computer in the hospital!"

"What if he broke his arms?" Frank asks. "He couldn't even type if he did have one!"

"Who broke his arms?" Bob asks.

"Frank's online boyfriend," Ray answers helpfully.

"He stood you up?"

"Shut up!" Frank cries. "He didn't stand me up. He was probably in that accident last night, with the fire truck and all those ambulances, and…"

"And now he's in the hospital and can't even type to send Frank an email to let him know what happened!" Ray finishes dramatically.

Bob shakes his head skeptically and unfolds his newspaper. Frank sees Bob's eyes go wide, and then Bob says, "Frankie, I don't think he was in an accident."

"What?" Ray asks. Frank is almost afraid to know.

Bob turns the newspaper around. There's a large black and white photo of a man dressed in black being led away by cops. There are handcuffs around his wrists, and his face is mostly obscured by one of the policeman's outstretched hands. Frank's jaw drops.

"'Suspect Caught In Serial Murder Case,'" Bob reads the bold-print headline. "It says they found him trying to break into one of the apartments down the street from that café!"

"You could've been killed!" Ray squeaks.

"What? No! No way, man, there's no _way_ my guy's a serial murderer," Frank says defensively, although he really has no idea. He grabs the paper away from Bob and starts skimming the article.

"I bet that's him, Frank," Bob says somberly. "You should feel lucky. He was probably just going to follow you home and kill you in your sleep or something."

"Jesus, that's morbid," Frank mumbles. There aren't any specifics mentioned in the article, but fuck, he was caught _really_ close to Frank's café.

"I'm with Bob, dude," Ray adds. "This guy could've like, kidnapped you or fucking _raped_ you or something."

"Shut up, guys, this can't be him. It just can't be! He can't be a fucking psycho killer. I would know."

"But you _don't_ know," Ray says, and Bob nods his agreement.

"Jesus Christ," Frank sighs. He pushes past them and turns the sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN. "Just get to work."

***

Disappointingly, there's still no reply from Coffee Addict when Frank gets home from work. He finds Jepha on the couch watching TV, though, so he flops down next to him and burrows under Jepha's arm for a snuggle.

"Long day?" Jepha asks.

"Weird day," Frank replies. "What're you watching?"

"Nothing," he says. "I'm flipping." He changes the channel to demonstrate and finally lands on a cooking show. "You hungry?"

"Not really." Frank rubs his cheek on Jepha's soft t-shirt for a moment. "I think I'll just go to bed."

Jepha curls his fingers around Frank's shoulder and slowly drags one fingernail up Frank's bicep, beneath the sleeve of his shirt. He's warm against Frank's side and yet the tease makes Frank shiver, like it always does, but he pushes Jepha's hand away and stands up.

"No, I'm going to bed, Jeph," he says.

"This early?"

"Yeah. Goodnight."

He's halfway to the bedroom door when he hears Jepha's quiet, "Goodnight, babe."

***

Gerard's uneasy feeling doesn't fade while he's at work. He's able to push Frank to the back of his mind, but the guilt is constant, and it gets worse once he finally goes home. Brian calls him and says he's busy at the store, working late, and Gerard gratefully reschedules their dinner plans for another night.

"You sure you're feeling okay?" Brian asks. Gerard can hear people talking in the background, and he knows Brian wants to get off the phone and deal with whatever's going on, so Gerard placates him until he gives in and says goodbye.

Alone in his apartment, Gerard has nothing to think of but Frank. He curls up on the couch with his laptop perched on a throw pillow next to him and stares at Frank's message, still pulled up on the screen.

He needs to reply. It's been well over a day and a half, and Frank deserves an explanation. Gerard just has no idea what to say.

 _Frankenstein,_

I can't even begin to express how bad I feel about that night. It's no fault of yours, I promise you that. I'm so sorry I disappointed you like that, and that I have no explanation for you. I never meant to hurt you, and I know that I did, don't even deny it. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry you ran into someone you didn't want to see, as well. I feel bad that you were even in that situation. I do hope your fight wasn't too bad, and I know it's my fault. I'm sure this guy will forgive you.

I value your friendship more than any other, and I really hope you'll forgive me.

Gerard sighs. It sounds really sappy, like it's from an apologetic lover rather than a… whatever Gerard is to Frank. He saves the message. He can't bring himself to send it yet, although it hurts him to keep Frank waiting so long.

He gets up to reheat some Chinese food for dinner, and when he returns to the couch, the saved draft stares back at him, like it's taunting him. He needs to send it tonight. Frank deserves a reply, at least. But it doesn't have to be right now. He sighs and settles in to watch a movie, trying not to let his computer distract him.

***

The email comes in at four in the morning, Frank sees when he checks his computer before work. His heart leaps into his throat. The guy's not a serial murderer, he's not fatally wounded or in the hospital, he just… Frank releases a careful breath and rereads the email. He didn't give an explanation at all.

But he's sorry, and that's what matters. Frank holds onto that instead of the sudden burst of anger and confusion.

Frank doesn't know how to respond to the email. Part of him wants to ask for an excuse, but he knows that wouldn't help patch things up between them, and he doesn't want some flimsy lie. He doesn't have time to sit here and think of what he should say, though. Frank grabs his books and heads to work.

It's a relatively slow morning, so Frank sits behind the counter with a book propped up on the register and ignores Ray's attempts at conversation.

Bob finally comes over to him and snatches the book out from under Frank's hands. "Frank, come on, it's lunch time. We're going out."

"I brought—"

"No, you didn't, and if you did, it wouldn't be as good as that deli down the street," Ray puts in. He's standing by the door with his scarf already around his neck. His hair puffs out more than usual because of it.

"What time is it?" Frank stalls.

"It's noon, and we haven't had anybody in here all morning, so shut up. You look like shit. We're taking you out," Bob says in his no-arguments tone.

Frank sighs his defeat and comes out from behind the desk. Ray helpfully holds out his scarf and coat.

***

Gerard tags along with Brian and supervises him supervising everyone else. He feels entirely useless, especially in the face of Brian's efficiency, but he can't sit at home and wait for Frank to reply to his message. Hopefully accepting his apology. He just wants Frank not to hate him forever just for being who he is. It's not fair, and it sucks.

"Gee, you okay?" Brian asks, pulling him aside.

"Yeah, sure," Gerard replies automatically.

"You just seem distracted. You sure you don't want to tell me what's up?"

Gerard looks down. Brian's shoes are almost touching his own. He slides his foot forward and nudges Brian's toes, feeling incredibly guilty. "It's fine. It's nothing."

"Alright. Come on, let me show you the café. They just got the espresso machines in this morning, so all it needs now is the napkin dispensers."

Gerard looks up again and flashes Brian a grin. "Do they work yet?"

***

It's a slow day, so Frank stays in the back room with Bob, unpacking boxes and making lists for the official inventory. Bob has music playing at low volume, but he's otherwise silent, and Frank can't deal with it for very long.

"So you know that guy I tried to meet—"

"The one that stood you up?" Bob asks distractedly.

"Fuck you. Yeah, him."

"What about him?"

"He apologized."

"For standing you up?"

"Yeah. I'm not really sure what to think about it. He didn't really give an _explanation_ , but he did apologize… So I guess it's a good thing, right?"

"I guess so."

"You're no help at all. It's just frustrating, y'know? Because I want to forgive him, but at the same time I am kind of pissed off—"

"And hurt," Bob adds.

"Yeah," Frank says, deflating. "I just need to fucking get over myself. It'll be fine."

"Sure."

"Man, you are the worst at having actual conversations, do you know that?" Frank gripes under his breath. He shoves a heavy box towards Bob.

"Sorry. It's a finely honed skill. Hard to break the habit."

"So, when are you going to tell me about Brian?" Frank asks, straightening up and putting his hands on his hips.

Bob freezes in place. "What?"

"You went to school with him, dude, you know his methods, how his brain works. What's his plan?"

"Ohhh. Well—"

"Wait, what did you think I was asking?" Frank interrupts quickly.

"None of your business," Bob replies testily.

"What's that supposed to mean? Brian is business and therefore _my_ business. Spill."

"He's not just business."

Frank opens his mouth to reply but suddenly can't think of a word to say. He splutters for a moment. "Wait, wait, wait. Brian—"

"He was my _roommate_ ," Bob growls. Frank's one of the few people in the world that's not scared of that growl, so he presses on.

"He was your _boyfr_ —"

"Don't _say_ it! Jesus Christ."

Frank squeaks and leaps over to Bob to fling his arms around Bob's neck. "I didn't even know!"

"Shut up, oh my god. It was a long time ago," Bob groans, prying Frank's fingers off his shirt.

"And now he's working for Gerard Way and you're working for me."

"Yeah. I guess he got the job while he was in New York, and I was in Chicago. We couldn't do the long-distance thing, it just didn't work, so."

"So you went your separate ways and now you're here. It's like _fate_."

"You don't believe in fate."

"You might."

"You know I don't."

"Apparently there's a lot about you I don't know," Frank says with mock sadness. He clings harder to Bob's neck. "And to think, I considered you a friend. I spilled all my secrets to you, and this is how you repay me?"

"Hey, I just told you a big fucking secret. Shut the fuck up."

Bob finally gets some leverage and pushes Frank away. He falls to the floor on his ass, giggling.

***

Frank doesn't respond to Coffee Addict's apology email. He doesn't want to dwell on it any more than he has already. His pen-pal apologized, and now, hopefully, they can put the whole awkward situation behind them. He starts a new email thread.

 _My rival has this boyfriend, let's call him Brad, who also works for him. I have this friend, I'll call him Rob, who works for me. Rob and Brad dated in college, though Rob tried to throw the "roommates" excuse at me the other day, before I heard the whole story. And now my rival and I are pitted against each other and, as I've just learned, so are Rob and Brad. I told him this was fate trying to bring them together. Except Brad is currently dating my enemy, so maybe not._

The only thing that would make this more ironic would be if I were dating Rob. That'd be more like some kind of Greek tragedy or something, I don't know.

Thank you for your previous email. Let's just put it behind us. Friends? :)

***

The day _Way Books & Café_ opens, Frank is late for work. Because of traffic. Because of the stupid amount of people trying to get into the concrete parking structure for the grand opening, blocking the entire street.

"I don't even drive to work and the fucking traffic made me late," he gripes to Ray as they walk in and start turning on the lights. He doesn't admit that he stood across the street from the entrance with his books clutched to his chest, frozen in place, watching the crowd in horror.

"It's just the grand opening, Frank, it'll die down. It's just the new big thing," Ray replies comfortingly.

"They're not gonna fucking take our customers."

"Damn right."

"Business is going well. We've had good sales all month."

"Exactly."

"We're gonna get through this."

"Definitely."

"Where is Bob? He's usually here by now."

Ray shrugs. "Maybe he got caught in traffic, like you did." Frank nods and they settle in for the day.

Bob comes in two and a half hours late, blaming the traffic. Ray looks skeptical, but takes him at his word. Frank pulls him aside.

"Fuck traffic, where the hell were you?" It's not like they've had any customers all morning, but it's the principle of the matter.

"I went into the store," Bob whispers. Frank immediately perks up and gestures for Bob to continue. "It's fucking big, Frank. They've got, like… _everything_."

"Everything, what do you mean, everything? We have rare stuff, out of print classics. We'll be fine."

"They have a whole classics section as big as this shop, man. And they've got a specialty section, too, for rare books. The guy I talked to said it's not fully stocked yet, but they do special orders and shit."

"So do we," Frank insists weakly.

"Frankie…" Bob says slowly. "It looks really good. And I know Brian, okay, he runs a tight ship." He takes a breath and looks around pointedly. "How many people have come in so far?"

Frank shakes his head. "It's just because it's the grand opening. We'll get people back. The excitement will die down."

Bob nods and reaches up to squeeze Frank's shoulder. "Yeah. You're right," he says, but they both know it's a lie.

***

 _The Shop Around The Corner_ hasn't seen any customers at all by the time Frank steps out and locks the door behind him. Ray walks with him to the intersection, where they see the superstore with its lights still on and people streaming in and out of the massive front doors.

"It'll be fine," Ray says quietly. Frank puts on a brave face and nods, and they part ways.

Frank trudges up the stairs to his apartment, shifting his books under his arm, and nearly gets bowled over by someone running down towards the door.

"Jeph?"

"Oh, shit, Frankie!" Jepha says loudly, bending to pick up one of Frank's books. "Sorry about that."

"You're leaving?"

"Yeah, I got a show tonight, babe. I told you about it."

"Oh. Right, sorry, I forgot." Frank shakes his head and takes the book.

"I gotta go, I'm already late. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He leans in and gives Frank a quick kiss on the cheek, then turns and scrambles down the stairs to the next landing.

"Jeph!" Frank calls after him.

Jepha stops short and looks up at him, clearly itching to leave. "Yeah?"

Frank opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. After a moment, Jepha takes a few steps back up towards Frank and asks, "You okay?"

"I'll be fine," Frank replies quickly. "Go on, I don't want to make you late."

Jepha waves and disappears around the corner. Frank listens to him thunder down the rest of the stairs and slam the front door behind him before continuing up to the apartment.

***

 _Today I passed the entrance to a store that could put me out of business, and I swear to god I nearly had a panic attack. I don't know what happened. One second, I was walking down the street on my way to work; the next, I was staring up at the big glass doors and the cheerful grand opening banner and I felt like I couldn't breathe. There were so many people. I'd been really optimistic before, but all of the sudden it was just this huge, insurmountable thing that I have no hope against._

Then I came home tonight and I just felt utterly defeated, and my boyfriend ran out the door because he actually has a successful career, and it's all I can do just to sit here and remember to breathe. All my bravado's gone, and I have no idea where it went or how to get it back. I'm so fucking scared.

"Oh my god, I'm going to hell."

"Hmm?"

Gerard slams his laptop closed and puts on an innocent face by the time Brian appears in the doorway with a bottle of sparkling cider and two champagne flutes.

"Did you say something?" Brian asks.

"What? Me? No, nothing, I'm fine."

Brian grins and puts everything down on the nightstand. "You're hiding something," he says as he unbuttons his shirt, "but I don't even care right now, because today was amazing."

"Yeah," Gerard replies, and busies himself putting his computer on the opposite nightstand. He doesn't know what his face is showing, and he desperately doesn't want to show Brian the wrong thing. He finally turns back around when he feels the bed dip under Brian's weight.

He's holding out a glass of fizzing apple cider, and he's not wearing anything but his boxers, and Gerard can't help but smile at that.

"Tonight, we celebrate," Brian murmurs, leaning in to kiss Gerard briefly.

"Tomorrow, we work," Gerard finishes. Brian laughs and they clink glasses and both take a sip of their drinks. "Congratulations, Bri."

"It's your place—"

"Don't even start with that, Schechter, you know this was pretty much all you. I couldn't have done this, not without you. Seriously, congratulations, you deserve it."

Brian shuffles forward and slides one hand low around Gerard's waist. "Thanks for giving me the chance, then."

Gerard puts down his glass without looking because suddenly Brian's kissing him and he only has the brain power for a brief hope that he doesn't spill sticky cider all over his laptop.

***

Brian goes into work ridiculously early the next morning, leaving Gerard to a leisurely breakfast of three cups of coffee and a handful of Lucky Charms. He promised Brian that he would go to the store today, to see for himself how things are going, so he can't procrastinate on this email forever.

Gerard sits down at the kitchen table with his coffee mug held under his chin so he can breathe in the steam. His laptop is mocking him, a blank draft of a reply open on the screen. He doesn't know how to comfort Frank, offer him encouragement, without directly going against his own company, but he knows he can't send Frank anything but encouragement. He also can't say anything that would give away his identity, or the fact that he knows Frank's identity. It's tricky, it's a very tricky situation, and it's entirely his own fault.

After about twenty minutes of staring at the blank draft, the taunting blinking cursor, Gerard sets aside his empty coffee mug and slides his computer closer.

 _You're doing well to remember your deep breaths. I know that's the first thing I forget whenever I start to panic. You shouldn't worry about grand openings. They're supposed to be a big deal, that's why they're called "grand" openings. I'm sure the excitement will die down soon, and there won't even be any reason to worry._

From what I know of you, Frankenstein, you're a confident, capable guy. Stick to your guns. You know what's right. You know what you need to do to get past this, and you've got friends and coworkers to help you.

Stand up for yourself, motherfucker. You've been doing that all your life. You know how.

Gerard clicks send before he can overanalyze the message and talk himself out of it. He has an awful, sick feeling that Frank's little shop is doomed anyway, but business is business, and there's nothing he can do about that now. At least Frank can go down fighting.

***

The initial rush of _Way Books_ ' grand opening has died down, but Frank can still feel the dip in their sales. It's not like they had a ton of customers before, but now _one person_ coming in is a good day. Frank sits cross-legged on the counter. Ray, across the room in one of the cushy armchairs, stares dejectedly back at him. Bob's music is filtering through the supply room door, because he hasn't bothered to put it through his headphones.

The bell above the door rings cheerfully and Frank nearly falls off the counter in his rush to look professional. He ends up banging his hip on the handle of one of the drawers and tries to stifle a grunt of pain.

"God, it really is dead in here," Jepha says. Frank sighs.

"Don't suppose you want to buy anything," he replies.

"No." Ray starts to get up, but Jepha just flaps his hand and he sits down again. "But I thought of something. This is a good shop, Frank, it's been around for like… years, I don't know, when did it open? Doesn't matter. A long time, that's the point, and it survived all that time, right? So now you just need to remind people of that."

Frank rubs the sore spot on his hip and stares. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I think you should have some kind of protest. Like a boycott of the store or something. I could get a band to play, we could get some publicity. Put this place back on the map, y'know? Remind people that you're still here."

Jepha looks really excited, and it's actually kind of a good idea. Frank cocks his head to the side, thinking. "So, like, a picket line or something?"

"Yeah! There's some girls I work with who could make posters for you, get 'em printed real cheap, and if I get the right band interested we could maybe get a newspaper article or something out of it. What do you think?"

"Frank," Ray says, standing up again. "This is good. It'll help."

"Yeah," Frank agrees after a moment. "Let's do it."

***

It takes Jepha a couple of days to get a local band booked for a possibly-illegal performance, so meanwhile, Frank, Ray, and Bob paper a few blocks in every direction with posters and flyers advertising both the shop and the band.

The day of the protest, a news crew actually shows up, and Frank starts to feel pretty optimistic. He sees a handful of his repeat customers in the small crowd, a few university students and one rare book collector, and he mingles for a few minutes, thanking them sincerely for coming.

The makeshift stage is cluttered with a few amps and guitars, and Frank steps through the coils of cords to grab the microphone.

"Hey, I'm Frank, and I own _The Shop Around The Corner_. I just wanted to say, thank you guys for supporting us, and we're not going down without a fight, 'cause we're loyal to you like a superstore like _Way Books_ can never be. So keep coming in, keep reading books. Tell your friends that if they want something real, come to us and we'll give it to you. Don't stop believing in us, because we still believe in you. We were here first, and we're not fucking leaving!"

The crowd's pretty into it, but Frank knows he can only hold their attention for so long. He turns around and motions to the band. "Anyway, here's The First Goodbye, they're gonna put on an awesome show for you guys. Thank you!"

Frank ends on a shout and tosses the mic over to the lead singer as he walks offstage, and he launches right into the first song. Frank stands to the side, watching them and watching the crowd, until Bob makes his way over.

"You think Brian knows you're out here?"

"I know he does," Bob replies with a grimace.

"Is it weird, fighting against him?" Frank can't help but ask.

"Frankie," Bob says seriously, "I work for you. I love your bookshop, and I believe in it. It doesn't matter whose side Brian's on, because I'm fighting for you."

Frank flings his arms around Bob's neck and squeezes him tight. "I'm so glad I hired you," he whispers fiercely.

Bob gives him a smacking kiss on the side of the head and extricates himself from Frank's arms to mingle again. Jepha bounces over a moment later.

"You did good! The news guys got you on tape, they said they're gonna run the story tonight."

Frank grins. "Cool. Thanks for this, Jeph, I think it's really going to help, and I couldn't have done it without you."

Jepha slings his arm over Frank's shoulders. "Can't let you go down alone, Frankie."

They listen to the music for a few minutes. "They're pretty good," Frank murmurs.

Jepha squeezes his shoulder. "I knew you'd like 'em."

***

"The music was fine, but now they're just picketing," Brian says with a frustrated sigh. Gerard hands him a paper cup of coffee from the café downstairs. "I mean, I don't think they'll have much success in getting people to boycott the store, but god, it's annoying."

Gerard just shrugs and goes to look out the window. He can see the top of Frank's head in the middle of the crowd. He looks away. "Like you said," he replies, turning away from the window, "at least the music was decent."

"I saw a news crew out there, Gee."

Gerard sips his own coffee. "You worried?"

Brian's quiet for a moment. He paces the room a couple of times before answering. "He can't win, not even with Bryar. I just don't like being labeled the bad guy, and they're gonna get a sympathy vote."

Gerard's gaze flicks back over to the window. "Yeah…"

"It'll blow over," Brian says determinedly. "He can't put us out of business. The worst that happens is both stores stay open."

Gerard thinks that's actually the best case scenario, but Brian's a businessman, and he knows better than to see it that way. He sighs. It's out of his hands, now.

***

The picketing brings in a quick stream of customers for a few days. Channel Five ran the story as promised, casting Frank and the shop in an annoyingly victimized light, but at this point Frank appreciates all the help he can get. They even got Gerard Way to comment on the protest.

"It's just business, it's not personal," Gerard says smoothly. "It's not up to me if _The Shop Around The Corner_ goes out of business. I'm not targeting them. It's up to the customers. We just have more to offer them."

"Yeah, fuck you too," Frank mumbles at the television.

The sales are starting to dwindle again, and this time it's less of a slow decline and more of a quick drop. Frank's not sure how long he can stay afloat if things continue in this direction.

***

"I think I might have to close," Frank says quietly. He, Ray, and Bob are out at a bar, and Frank's well on his way to totally drunk, and Ray isn't doing much better.

"We tried, Frankie," Bob answers sympathetically. "We tried really hard. There's no shame in bowing out."

"Yeah, but…"

"It's your dad's shop," Ray finishes. He nods knowingly and nearly falls off his stool. "I get it."

"I totally failed," Frank whines. "They left it to me, him and Grandpa, because they trusted me, and I _totally_ failed."

"Dude, they didn't have a fucking superstore opening up next door," Bob interjects.

"Yeah, it's out of your control!" Ray agrees.

"I just… I wanted it to be great. It used to be great, y'know? But then I came along and ruined everything." Frank drains his bottle and slams it down on the bar with a satisfying clunk.

"It's not your fault, Frank," Bob says seriously. "It's not. We did everything we could."

"Yeah, well. Doesn't change anything anyway. I have to close."

Ray holds up his beer bottle in a toast and Bob follows suit. Frank lifts his own even though it's depressingly empty.

"To _The Shop Around The Corner_ ," Ray says. "The best bookshop in town."

"Owned by the best family in town," Bob adds.

"With the best employees in town," Frank finishes. "I love you guys. You know that, right? You're the best I could have hoped for."

Bob and Ray both clap him on the shoulder and drink the rest of their beer.

***

Ray's helping Frank clear out the back room when he lets it slip that Bob accepted a job at _Way Books_.

"He what?" Frank says, stopping short with a box in his arms.

"Um…"

Frank puts down the box. "Ray."

"Brian offered him a job, and he took it. He lives alone, he needs to pay the bills somehow," Ray mumbles.

"He's obsessed with rare books and he's got a college degree," Frank says, "and his old boyfriend's in charge; of course they offered him a fucking job."

Ray doesn't reply. It takes a minute, but eventually Frank catches on.

"Did you take it, too?"

"No, Frankie, no, of course I didn't," Ray says at once.

"But Brian offered you a job."

"Yeah."

Frank sighs and sits down on the floor next to his box, running his finger distractedly along the edge. "You should take it, Ray."

"I couldn't do that to you, Frank—"

"Fucking take the job, Ray. They offered it to you for a reason, just like Bob, and don't lie, you need the money too. I'm sure they'll pay better than I did."

After a moment, Ray sinks down to the floor beside him. "I felt like I was betraying you and your dad," he says quietly.

"You don't have to do that," Frank replies sadly. "Take the job, Ray."

***

The first morning Frank doesn't have to go into work, he sits in front of the television and zones out for a good six hours straight. Jepha wakes up sometime during that and joins him on the couch for a while, but then he has to leave and go into the office, and Frank's alone again, staring at the mindless cartoons and not really paying attention.

He doesn't know what to do with himself. He can't even remember the last time he went on vacation, what he did with himself back then. He can't remember himself as a kid, out of school for the summer. What the hell did he do with all that time to himself?

Day two, he wakes up at the same time as usual, rushes through a shower and breakfast, and only remembers he doesn't have a job anymore when he's about to walk out the door.

Frank sits down in front of his computer and begins typing up an email.

***

Gerard fists his hands in Brian's shirt, holding him close even as Brian starts to pull away.

"Gee—"

"No, stay, please—"

"Gerard, I have to go," Brian insists. "I have work tomorrow, and I need sleep, okay?"

"You can sleep here," Gerard tries.

"If I stay here, neither of us will sleep, we both know that."

Gerard finally gives up and throws his hands in the air. "Ugh! Fine. Go back to your apartment."

"I have things to do tonight, Gee; I can't be distracted," Brian says apologetically.

"Yeah, yeah," Gerard mumbles. "I get it."

"Do you?"

"Yeah." And the truth is, he actually does. He reels Brian in for another kiss, but he doesn't hold him there.

"I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Brian says when they pull apart. "Love you."

"Love you too," Gerard answers. "Good luck with the work."

Brian waves over his shoulder and sees himself out, locking the apartment behind him. Gerard flops down on the couch and turns on the TV, but there's nothing on, not even the guilty pleasure daytime soaps. Gerard reaches for his laptop.

There's an email from Frank, of course. Gerard's hesitant to open it, sure that it will break his heart even more, but there's no way he can just leave it unread.

The subject line says **the truth about me**. Gerard clicks.

 _I owned a bookshop. We made the news, though that didn't last long. So yeah, that's me. I owned this great little shop, and now it's closed. We went out of business a few days ago, and since then, I've been sitting around my apartment watching stupid tv shows and sleeping a lot. I just don't know what else to do._

The shop was my dad's for a while, and my grandfather's before that, and I guess I've always just been destined to work there and own it. I don't have a degree, I don't have any marketable skills, I'm just… I used to be a small business owner. And now I'm nothing. My employees were my best friends, and they've moved on to the very place that shut us down, and I have nothing left. My rival took everything I had.

I'm sorry for laying all this on you. I just need some time to figure myself out, I think. At least I have a little bit of money saved from the shop, so I'm not in a big hurry. I just wish I knew what I wanted to do, so I could have something to work towards. That's the real truth about me: I know so much about my family and so much about fiction, but I don't know anything real about me.

Thanks for being my friend through all this.

xo  
fnstein

Gerard has to stop himself from emailing back the truth about himself. He can't do that to Frank now. He needs to give it time, and see if there's ever any chance Frank will like him in person like he obviously does over the internet. Now is the worst possible time to tell Frank who he is.

 _You'll get through this_ , he writes instead. _I'm sorry I don't have much advice for you, but I at least have comfort. I'm always happy to be your friend, Frankenstein._

***

Even a week after Frank closes the shop, he's still in the habit of waking up early for work. He rolls out of bed and stumbles to the kitchen for coffee, and then he sits down on the couch with nothing to do. He's so used to rushing in the mornings; his routine was a quick shower, a cup of coffee while he checked his email, toasted Pop-Tarts if he was up early enough, cold ones on the way to work if he wasn't, and then a full day at the shop with only an hour to slip out for lunch.

On the weekends, Frank caught up on sleep, sometimes went out with Jepha, or stayed home reading or watching the movie marathons on TV. Frank just felt useless, doing that during the week, when he should be working.

Frank takes his mug into the bedroom and stands at the doorway, watching Jepha sleep in their bed, tangled up in the sheets with the comforter kicked to the floor. Jepha always complained about Frank working too much, but really, it was just that Frank didn't know what to do with himself when he wasn't working.

It occurs to him now that he's been kind of a shitty boyfriend. He and Jepha never really hang out anymore, and even sex is only an occasional activity. Frank's eyes follow the line of Jepha's back down to where it disappears beneath the sheet that covers his ass. He's still attracted to Jepha, fuck yeah, so that's not the problem.

Mind made up, Frank walks into the room and puts his coffee down on the nightstand with a loud clunk. "Jeph," he says, half-kneeling on the bed. "Jeph, wake up."

"Wha…? What's goin' on?" Jepha mumbles sleepily.

"I want you to fuck me in the shower," Frank answers determinedly. "Jepha, come on, wake up. Please?"

"Frankie," Jepha moans. "It's like, six in the fucking morning. I'm not awake."

"It's like, _nine_ , and seriously, I just want your cock in my ass right the fuck now and then you can go back to sleep."

"Fraaaank," Jepha moans again. "As much as I love to fuck you, I'm not awake enough for this."

But Frank is already stripping off his pajama pants and crawling down the bed, dragging the sheet with him until Jepha's uncovered. Jepha rolls onto his back, apparently resigned to early morning sex, and Frank takes off his boxers for him. Jepha's already hardening, and Frank speeds up the process by taking Jepha's cock deep into his mouth and swallowing around the head.

"Jesus fuck, Frank," Jepha cries, his hands flying to Frank's hair.

"You awake now?" Frank asks, and Jepha pushes his head to make him go down again. Frank bobs his head a few times, bringing Jepha to full hardness, and then sits up.

"Why do you want me to fuck you in the shower? Why not here, where it's _comfortable_?"

"Because I want to make it interesting," Frank replies, pulling Jepha upright. Jepha lets Frank drag him into the bathroom and press him up against the wall while the water heats up. Frank kisses him greedily, swallowing every sleepy noise Jepha makes.

In the shower, Jepha returns the favor, holding Frank firmly against the fiberglass tile. Frank reaches between them and fists Jepha's cock, urging him silently to get on with it.

"Okay, okay," Jepha murmurs, groping for the shampoo bottle. Frank winds his arms around Jepha's neck and bites his ear while Jepha squirts some shampoo into his hand. He then turns his head sharply to the side, breaking Frank's kiss, and says, "Turn around, I can't hold you right now."

Frank spins around and flattens his chest against the smooth, wet wall, and Jepha lifts Frank's thigh so he can rest one foot on the slippery edge of the tub. Jepha then slips his hand between Frank's legs, slowly sliding his slick fingers up until he can press two into Frank's ass. Frank grits his teeth and forces his muscles to relax.

"Come on, come on, fuck me," he says quickly. "I can take it like this, come on."

"Fuck, fine, shut up already," Jepha replies, pushing Frank's shoulder hard into the wall. His fingers disappear and Frank takes a breath, blinking the water out of his eyes. Jepha lines up his cock at Frank's entrance and pushes just the head in, waiting for Frank to push back, to show that he's ready.

Frank doesn't waste time. He reaches back for Jepha's arm and cants his hips to change the angle a little. Jepha slams into him with a sharp, surprised cry, which Frank echoes a second later.

"Fuck, Frankie, fucking hell, fucking _fuck_ ," Jepha moans.

"Yeah, fuck, Jeph, fuck me," Frank answers.

Jepha's hands move to Frank's hips, holding him and guiding the motion, and Frank leans back into it. "Fuck yeah, Frank, come on. Come on, baby, you want it this bad, you can fuck yourself on my cock."

"Jeph, fuck, yes, there," Frank cries. He slaps his left hand against the wall and grabs his dick with his right, stroking fast and hard to match Jepha's pace.

"Gonna come, Frankie."

"Yeah, fuck, me too," Frank replies.

Jepha ends up coming first, and it's less powerful than Frank expected. Jepha wraps his arms around Frank's waist and torso and holds him close, rocking his hips up into Frank's ass. Frank leans back against him, taking his weight off the wall, and finishes himself off quickly with one hand around his cock and the other around his balls, and really, his orgasm is less intense than he expected too.

"Can you stand?" Jepha asks quietly.

Frank wiggles his toes to make sure he won't slip and says, "Yeah, I'm good," and Jepha lets him go. They clean themselves up beneath the hot spray of the shower and pass the shampoo and the soap back and forth easily, like they've been sharing it forever, even though the last time they showered together was over a year ago.

Frank gets out of the shower while Jepha's rinsing the shampoo out of his hair and says, "Sorry I woke you up."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Jepha replies loudly, to be heard over the water. "Just seemed a little out of the blue."

"Sorry," Frank says again.

Jepha pokes his head around the curtain. "Frank, shut up. I like fucking you."

Frank grins and Jepha disappears again. "Yeah, well. You can go back to bed, now. What time did you even get home last night?"

"I don't remember. Three? Three-thirty, maybe? You were fast asleep."

"Because I _sleep_ at night." Frank sighs and wraps his towel around his waist. "Hey, listen. I think I'm gonna go get some groceries and stuff, maybe cook an actual meal tonight. Will you be home?"

"Yeah, should be, but there's a show later I want to catch. See you tonight?"

"Okay, sure, we can eat early. I'll be back later."

***

Frank's hair is still wet when he gets to the store, but he doesn't care. He pulls his hood up and stares down the long aisles of frozen dinners and wonders when his life turned into this. It's not quite the domestic bliss he imagined. He can't put his finger on what changed, but he doesn't remember sex being so dissatisfying when he and Jepha first got together.

He starts to think that maybe they should talk about it. Try to fix it. Frank's just not sure it can be fixed, because he can't even think of anything that's technically _wrong_. Maybe they've fallen into a rut. Frank doesn't know how to spice up their relationship any more than he's already tried, and that feels like a bad sign.

***

They're halfway through dinner and Frank has come to a decision. The guilt is making him antsy, the meal feels more like a last supper. He finally puts down his fork and says, "Jepha, I need to tell you something."

Jepha actually looks relieved. "I need to tell you something too." He puts down his own fork and wipes his hand on a napkin, and they both watch each other in tense silence for a moment. Then, at the same time, they both speak.

"I really think we should—"

"Maybe we shouldn't—"

"Wait, let me go first," Frank says quickly, and Jepha falls silent. Frank takes a deep breath. "I think we should, uh, not see each other anymore." He looks up from his twisted napkin to see Jepha's reaction.

Which isn't what Frank expected. Jepha exhales loudly and says, "I agree."

"Wait," Frank says, not even bothering to keep the amused smile off his face. "Were you going to break up with me just now?"

Jepha gives him a guilty look. "Yeah. I felt bad, though, 'cause you made all this effort for dinner and everything."

"I came to the decision while I was on my way home," Frank admits. "How long have you…"

"A while," Jepha says. "But nothing was _bad_ , so I didn't even think about it most of the time."

"Something was just _wrong_ ," Frank agrees, "but yeah, not bad. Just kind of boring."

"Yeah, _exactly_! I guess we're more of a 'friends with benefits' type of couple," Jepha laughs. "I love you, Frankie, just—"

"Not like that," Frank finishes. He laughs as well. "I can't believe we both wanted to break up on the same night. Jeph… is there somebody else?"

"No, no," Jepha assures him quickly. "I mean, nothing that's happened."

"But there's somebody you like," Frank says with a playful nudge to Jepha's shoulder. "Tell me! Who is he?"

"Just a guy in a band," Jepha replies. "A drummer." Frank giggles when he sees a blush creeping up Jepha's neck, almost hidden by his tattoos. "They're already signed to a better label, so I'm basically just stalking the band for him. They're really good, though!"

Frank suddenly gasps. "This is the band you're going to see tonight, isn't it?" Jepha hangs his head and barks out a laugh, and that's all the answer Frank needs.

A moment later, Jepha sobers and stares intently at Frank. "What about you, then; do you have your eye on anyone?"

Frank shrugs. "Not really. Well, maybe kind of? Remember my internet guy? I mean, we tried to meet and that didn't work out, but I think I might be falling in love with him anyway. I don't even know what he looks like, though. And he has a boyfriend already."

Jepha lifts his hand to Frank's arm and squeezes gently. "If he's the guy for you, it'll work out."

"Yeah, I hope so." Frank stands up to put his plate in the sink, and Jepha does the same. He kisses Frank on the cheek as he passes to the trash can. "You should ask this drummer out when you see him later," he says pointedly.

Jepha raises an eyebrow. "Maybe I _will_."

"Knowing you, I'm guessing you won't be coming home tonight," Frank replies with a grin. "Good luck, man."

***

"Mikey."

Mikey doesn't look up from his magazine. He doesn't even blink. After a few seconds, he turns a page.

" _Mikey_. Don't ignore me, I've come to a revelation," Gerard tries again.

Mikey raises an eyebrow, which Gerard takes to mean _Continue_.

Gerard sits down on the coffee table, bumping Mikey's knees with his own. "I think I'm in love with Frank."

At last, Mikey puts down his magazine. "You're what?"

"I think I'm falling in love with him. Well, already in love with him."

"He hates you."

"I know."

"You still haven't told him the truth."

"I _know_ ," Gerard groans. "But I can't. He hates me in real life, but… we have this amazing connection, y'know? I can't give that up. Not yet, Mikey, please." He realizes, after a moment, that Mikey can't actually force him to give it up. "I can't tell him the truth. But I don't know what to do," he admits.

Mikey carefully puts his magazine on the coffee table and takes one of Gerard's hands. "What about Brian?"

"I think you were maybe right," Gerard says in a very small voice.

"Gee, you haven't loved him in a while," Mikey replies gently. "He's just convenient, and he's comfortable, and he's a really nice guy because he's not in love with you either, and he's still with you."

"I'm not some needy pity case—"

"You kind of are. Gerard, listen. He's been with you for more than a year. Don't you think he deserves a chance to be happy?"

Gerard sighs and squeezes Mikey's hand. "What about me?"

"You deserve that too. And if Frank hates you, well, you can find somebody else."

"But what if I can't? I love Brian, I don't want to—"

"Shut up. You will, okay? You can't just cling to him like he's your last hope."

Gerard pauses for a moment as that sinks in.

"Gee, if you let Brian go, you can find someone who makes you really happy."

Gerard doesn't want to tell Mikey he's already found that person, and that person hates him. Something must show on his face, though, because Mikey pulls him into a hug.

"Think of it this way," Mikey murmurs, "now you can focus on seducing Frank."

Gerard whacks Mikey's shoulder and says, "Shut up." But that's totally his plan.

***


	3. Chapter 3

_Hey, so… My boyfriend and I just broke up last night. I'm actually totally okay with it. I broke up with him. Well, it was mutual. He broke up with me at the same time. It was really the best break-up I've ever been through. I mean, we're still friends and he's got his eye on some hot drummer or something, which is cool. I'm happy for him._

So now I'm unemployed and single and still living with my ex while he's moving on and having a life and a career. And he's probably going to start moving out soon and I'll be alone for real. On top of all that, I woke up this morning coughing up a lung. Wow, I suck at life. Uh. Sorry for the awkwardness of this email. I just… thought you should know.

xo  
f

Gerard's heart leaps—it's a false hope, he _knows_ it's a totally false hope, but he just can't help feeling hopeful—and that, more than anything, convinces him to bite the bullet and end things with Brian.

 _You don't suck at life_ , he writes. He takes a deep breath.

 _You're moving into some new stage of life. It's a good thing. I'm doing that too. I'm actually about to go break up with my boyfriend, because we're not in love and I'm holding him back by keeping him tied down like this. I hope tonight goes as well for me as last night did for you. And I'm sorry you're sick, that totally sucks. Make some tea and get some rest, that's what my mom always told me._

Gerard hits send and snaps his laptop closed.

***

"I can't keep doing this to you. To both of us."

"What are you talking about?"

Brian's in a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, and he's still clutching a spiral-bound notebook with a pen stuck in the binding.

"Can I come in?" Gerard asks. "I need to talk to you."

Brian gives him a bewildered sort of shrug and opens the door wider to let Gerard through. Gerard looks around; he's never quite prepared for the amount of clutter in Brian's apartment. It just doesn't seem _right_. But he supposes Brian knows exactly where everything is.

"Is everything okay?" Brian asks slowly. "You wanna sit down?"

"No. I mean. No, it's not really okay, but yes, let's sit." He follows Brian to the couch and perches on the very edge. "I can't keep us in this weird grey area," he says. "Mikey says I'm needy and clingy, and I just realized that he's totally right, Brian, and I'm really sorry for being so dependent on you."

"Gerard, shut the fuck up for a minute," Brian snaps. Gerard shuts up. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think we need to break up," Gerard blurts out. "I love you, Brian, I do, I just—"

"Whoa, hold on," Brian says. "Slow down, okay?"

Gerard keeps his mouth shut and lets Brian process whatever spewed out of him a minute ago. He should have planned this better. Thought of something to say, at least, so he wouldn't stumble around and let it all come out like a stream-of-conscious crazy person speech.

"You think we need to break up," Brian says. "You and Mikey think you're too needy and clingy, and this means you need to be independent?"

"Essentially."

"Is there something else?"

"Mikey says I'm holding you back. And I totally am, Brian, I'm so selfish. I didn't even think about you, before. I was just so scared of being alone forever that I didn't want to admit that things weren't the same anymore, and I didn't even think that maybe you felt trapped."

"I don't feel trapped…" Brian replies slowly.

"What do you feel, then?"

Brian's quiet for a moment. "I guess… I didn't really think about it at all."

"You're not in love with me, are you?" Gerard asks.

"Gee, I—"

"No, I understand. I love you, but I'm not in love with you like I was last year. And I think it's the same for you, right?" Brian lowers his eyes and nods. "It's okay. We just grew up, I think. You got really serious about the store—"

"And you didn't," Brian teases.

"—and I didn't want anything to change, but it did. But now we can both move on, right? Now we can both be happy?"

Brian reaches over and squeezes Gerard's knee. "Yeah, now we can be happy."

Gerard scoots closer and gives Brian a sideways hug. "I just didn't want to lock you into this relationship anymore, because it's not right. You get that, right? I just want you to be happy."

"Yeah, I get that," Brian assures him. Gerard takes a deep breath and feels most of the tension drain out of him. "Is this what's been bothering you lately?"

"Some of it."

"Will you tell me the rest?" Brian prods.

"I think I'm falling in love," Gerard whispers. "I'm not leaving you for him; he doesn't even like me. But it just made me realize that our relationship isn't like that anymore."

Brian kisses the side of Gerard's head and rocks him a little bit. "You're going to find someone that will make you happy, Gerard. Stop worrying about it so much. It'll happen."

"What about you?"

"I think I'll get over you."

"Seriously, Brian."

"I think I'll find someone too," Brian replies. Gerard suddenly remembers Frank's email about his friend 'Rob', and Brian hiring Bob Bryar from Frank's shop. "Besides, I've got the store to worry about now. We survived the grand opening, but now it's my job to make sure we turn a profit."

Gerard breaks into a smile. Brian somehow manages to turn every conversation into one about work. At least he's dedicated.

"Hey, I was thinking. The guy with the shop, Frank? I was thinking about offering him a job at the store. A manager or something. I mean, he's obviously capable, and it would probably be a pay raise, and he can work with his friends again…"

"He'll never do it," Gerard says confidently. Frank's too proud to accept a job at the place that put him out of job. He probably wouldn't accept even if he was living in a cardboard box on the street. "He holds grudges."

"Yeah," Brian sighs. "I figure it's at least worth a try."

"Do you ever feel bad? About his shop, I mean?"

"It's business, Gerard. You can't let your personal feelings affect business, you know that."

Gerard nods and falls silent for a moment. "It sucks, though."

"Yeah," Brian agrees quietly. "It does."

***

Frank sneezes violently into a tissue and then holds his head in his hands, waiting for the dizziness to pass. When his doorbell rings, he groans loudly.

"Go away."

Of course, the person ringing the doorbell can't hear him, and it rings again.

Frank forces himself to his feet and over to the front door, and then leans against the wall to speak into the intercom. "What?"

"Frank? It's Gerard. Uh, Gerard Way. May I please come up?" comes the crackly response.

"Fuck," Frank breathes, then sneezes again, nearly braining himself on the doorframe. He presses the button. "What the fuck? Go away. I mean, uh, why are you even here? I'm kind of—" He sneezes yet again, and then makes a face at the intercom and tries to pretend there's not snot all over it. "I'm kind of sick."

"That sucks," Gerard replies eloquently.

"So go away," Frank says. "Besides not wanting to see you, of all people, in my own apartment after you put me out of a job, I'm really not in any—" This time he turns away from the intercom to sneeze, and he wishes again he had his tissue box. "I'm not in any state to talk. And as much as I hate you, I don't want to pass this fucking cold or whatever it is—"

There's a knock at the door. Frank yelps and stumbles away from it, grabbing at the table to keep himself upright.

"Frank?" Gerard asks, voice muffled by the door. "You okay?"

"Shit!" Frank whispers. "Shit, fuck, shit, what the fucking fuck—"

Frank looks through the peephole and sees Gerard's gigantic bobble-head and a bouquet of white and purple flowers and he looks so goddamn amazing that Frank actually kind of does want to let him in. He groans and turns around to look at the room. There are used tissues on every surface, because he filled up the trashcan and hasn't had the energy to take it out yet, and there's a pile of dirty blankets on the floor by the couch, and Frank has been wearing the same fleece pajamas for days and hasn't had a shower and he probably looks awful. And he's dripping snot. He wants to bash his head against the wall.

He sneezes again and actually does hit the wall, but only with his shoulder. He wipes his nose quickly and shakes his head to clear the fuzziness, and then he looks back through the peephole. Gerard is leaning closer to the door now, looking concerned. Frank watches him lift his hand and knock again, softer this time.

"Frankie?"

"Fuck. Hold on a second!"

He wipes his nose on his arm and yanks his winter coat off its hook by the door. He wraps it tightly around his body and shuffles quickly back to the door.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, flinging it open.

Gerard smiles at him. "I heard you were sick."

"Uh. Yes. I am. Obviously."

Gerard holds out the flowers. "I brought you flowers."

"That's… sweet." Frank takes them and holds them up to his face, but with his nose all stuffed up, he can't smell anything. It feels nice against his skin, though, the cool petals and leaves brushing his cheeks. "Thanks?"

"You're welcome."

"You shouldn't be here—"

"You look hot, Frank," Gerard says, and Frank rolls his eyes. "I mean. Well. I mean that, but I also mean you look like you're about to pass out. Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not okay," Frank whines. "I'm fucking sick and I can't smell my flowers."

Gerard reaches towards him and presses the back of his hand to Frank's forehead before Frank can recognize the action and stop him. He plucks the flowers out of Frank's hands. "Frankie, you're running a fever, you need to sit down and rest. I'll put these in water and make tea. Do you have tea? Or soup, do you have any of that? Are you hungry?"

"I'm—" Frank watches in blurry confusion as Gerard shoulders his way into the apartment and starts heading for the kitchen as if he knows exactly where everything is. "Okay. Okay, yes," he finishes, mostly to himself.

Gerard comes back a moment later without the flowers. He turns Frank around and marches him toward the couch, and then disappears into the kitchen again. Frank grabs his box of tissues and holds it close to his chest.

"Do you have medicine?" Gerard calls. "Do you need to take something?"

Frank sneezes and gives no other response. He doesn't need to. Gerard comes back with a bottle of Nyquil, squinting at the instructions on the back. He then looks down at Frank.

"You should really be in bed."

"Why are you here?" Frank asks again. He's trying to hold onto his anger, but it's fading fast; he's always lonelier when he's sick.

"I heard you were sick, and I felt kind of bad," Gerard admits.

"For ruining my way of life and destroying my shop?" Frank replies bitterly. He tightens his fist around a tissue. "You're not going to offer me a job, are you?"

"No, I wouldn't do that."

"Your boyfriend sent me an email about—"

"He's not my—"

"Oh, so you just fuck him sometimes? You probably fuck a lot of your employees, don't you, Mr. Big Shot. Well, excuse me for not jumping at the chance to work for you."

Gerard's jaw drops. "We broke up," he finally replies.

"Oh," Frank says stupidly. "Fuck, everyone's breaking up. You, me, this guy I know online… Hey, maybe now Bob can make a move."

Gerard sinks down on the couch next to him. "Frank, I'm sorry I put you out of business. It wasn't… It wasn't personal."

"It wasn't personal. People always fucking say that. It was fucking personal to me. That was my dad's shop. That was my grandpa's shop. That was the only fucking thing I had left of them, and you swooped in and took it all away with your stupid superstore."

"I never meant to do that to you," Gerard says quietly. "But I'm not a superstore. I have my reasons for doing things the way I do them."

"Yeah, 'cause you're fucking rich, and rich people are always thinking about the fucking money. There's no spirit in your store, Gerard."

Gerard actually looks hurt, and Frank inwardly cheers in victory. His triumph doesn't last long, though. Gerard stares sadly down at his lap and Frank feels the creeping shadow of guilt settling in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm sorry you think that," Gerard says. "I created my store the way I did because I wanted something for everyone, and I wanted a fucking coffee shop, and I wanted cushy chairs and big tables and so many books, Frank, I wanted it to be a place for _me_. And it is, and I'm not going to apologize for that."

"Sorry," Frank says, ashamed. "I'm sick, I don't mean half the shit that comes out of my mouth."

"You meant that," Gerard replies, smiling a little sadly. "I'm making tea."

"You don't have to—"

"Shut up, Frank."

Frank shuts up. Then he sneezes.

"You need to go to bed, Frank. I'll bring you your tea and your flowers."

"Okay," Frank says wearily. He lets Gerard pull him up off the couch and start him walking down the hall.

"Bedroom?"

Frank nods at the door on the right and Gerard steers him toward it.

"Coat off."

"Nngh," Frank mumbles, trying to cling to it, but Gerard just yanks it off his shoulders, and Frank's left standing there in his fleece pajamas with little smiling yellow stars and moons staring back at them.

"Nice pjs," Gerard murmurs, and Frank sees the hint of a smile in Gerard's lips. "I guess if you can still fit into kids' sizes…"

"Shut up, I'm not that fucking small."

"I'm just joking. They're cute."

Frank rolls his eyes. Gerard pushes him onto the bed and throws the blanket over him and says he'll be right back. While Gerard's out of the room, Frank blows his nose and tries to clear all the used tissues off the nightstand. There's nowhere for them to go but the floor, though, so he puts them all in a little pile on the edge of the nightstand, a little tissue pyramid.

Gerard returns carrying a steaming mug of tea, the flowers in a vase Frank didn't know he had, and the bottle of Nyquil tucked under his arm. He arranges everything on the small nightstand and then tucks the blankets in around Frank, pulled up to his chin.

"Drink your tea, and when you're done, drink the Nyquil and get some sleep. You'll feel better tomorrow."

"Gerard—"

"I'll see myself out. Goodnight, Frank."

"Gerard, I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Gerard mutters, looking sad again. "I probably deserve it."

"No, you don't. I'm just being an asshole. Thank you for the flowers."

Gerard gives him a steady look and whispers, "You're welcome." He backs out of the room and eases the door closed behind him, and Frank listens to him walk through the apartment and leave through the front door.

***

 _The weirdest fucking thing happened yesterday. That guy heard from someone that I was sick, and he showed up at my apartment and brought me flowers. I don't know if it was some fucking apology for putting me out of a job or what, but I was an asshole to him (again), and this time I know he didn't deserve that shit. I think I should apologize for real, but… He still ruined my career and took away my last connection to my dad and my grandpa, and that fucking stings. He can't just waltz in and expect us to be best friends, you know?_

Fuck, I'm sorry, I've just been ranting these past few weeks. Totally self-absorbed. I'm such an asshole! I'm finally feeling a little bit better, so I think I'm going to take a walk through the market and enjoy the fresh air. It's been forever since I've had time to do that. But I'll shut up now! How are you? How's your brother and sister-in-law? Tell me about your day.

Gerard shakes his head in amusement as he reads Frank's email. He doesn't just expect them to be best friends immediately, as Frank says, but it seems like Frank's starting to open up a little, which is progress.

Gerard feels like a total creep.

But he still grabs his keys and heads out the door.

He spots Frank, bundled up in a coat and fuzzy scarf despite the mild weather, after about twenty minutes of blatant searching, and heads casually in Frank's direction. They bump into each other at a booth selling asparagus, which Gerard thinks are gross, but apparently Frank likes them.

"Hey, you feeling better?" Gerard asks.

Frank whips around, surprised, and nearly drops the asparagus. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you," Gerard says slowly. "I live around here, and it's a nice day today."

"Yeah, I'm feeling a little better," Frank finally answers. "Thanks for the flowers. And the tea, and… everything. You didn't have to do that."

"I didn't want you to be alone," Gerard replies, shrugging.

"How'd you hear I was sick, anyway?"

"Oh," Gerard hedges, "you know, through the grapevine. We know a lot of the same people."

"Speaking of, shouldn't you be at work?" Frank asks pointedly.

"Brian pretty much runs the place. I don't have to be there all the time." Gerard watches Frank put back the asparagus and move on to a display with strawberries. "I get kind of bored during the day, sometimes," he finishes.

Frank glances back over his shoulder at Gerard, a guarded, considering look on his face. After a long moment, he says, "What are you doing tomorrow, then?"

Gerard shrugs. "Not much planned."

Frank nods and doesn't reply. He pays for the carton of strawberries and gestures for Gerard to follow him through the market. They end up at a deli, and Frank bites his lip nervously. Gerard decides to take pity on him.

"You want to grab something to eat?" he asks, tilting his head toward the entrance.

Frank meets Gerard's eyes. "Yeah, okay."

They stand in line to order together, but they're both uncomfortably silent until they sit down at a table. Frank sneezes into a tissue and proceeds to fold it up and tuck it back into his pocket with intense concentration.

"So, I'm glad you're feeling better," Gerard begins awkwardly.

"Me too. Uh, sorry about you and your boyfriend," Frank replies.

"Thanks. You too."

Gerard is intensely aware of the fact that he and Frank are both recently single, and they're out at lunch, and it feels almost like a date. Except about a thousand times more awkward than any first date Gerard's ever been on, which he didn't think was possible. He takes a long drink of his soda and when he puts down his plastic cup, he gives Frank a determined smile.

"So you know that time we met at that coffee shop? You were waiting for someone? Did you ever meet him?"

Frank relaxes a tiny bit. "He never showed up."

"He stood you up?"

"Oh my god," Frank says, rolling his eyes. "He apologized later. He's a really nice guy!"

"Hey, I'm not judging," Gerard says, throwing his hands up in a gesture of peace. "If he's so nice, how come you haven't met him yet?"

Frank shrugs. "It just hasn't come up."

"You should ask him out. You're single now, and you said he's single, right? Maybe there's something—"

"Shut up!" Frank laughs. He seems to catch himself and quiet down, though, which is a little sad to watch. Gerard hates that Frank feels like he has to censor himself like that. But Frank just accepts the challenge with a satisfied look in his eye and says, "Maybe I _will_ ask him out."

Gerard nods skeptically. "Okay, sure."

"As _friends_. We haven't even met yet."

"Yeah, Frankie. Ask him out. See what he says."

"I'm going to ask him," Frank says confidently. He takes a bite of his sandwich. "I'm thinking of going to the park tomorrow. Maybe if you're not busy—"

"Maybe I'll see you there."

***

Gerard isn't at all surprised when an email comes in the next morning asking if they could try again to meet in person. He rattles off a lame excuse and goes to meet Frank in the park.

"He said he's got a big project at work."

Frank is wrapped up in his scarf and coat again, sitting on a bench with one foot on the opposite knee. Gerard sits down next to him.

"Could be the truth," he offers.

"It's totally the truth. He's not a liar," Frank insists.

"He could've come up with a better excuse," Gerard mutters under his breath.

"Okay, shut up, he's just busy!"

"What did he say, _exactly_?"

Frank sighs and doesn't meet Gerard's gaze. " _I wish I could, but I just got a huge project dumped on me at the last minute. I'm swamped, sorry._ "

"Yep, the old 'stuck with a sudden project' excuse. Dude, I was using that in college."

Frank gives into a quick laugh. "You're such an asshole."

Gerard doesn't know how to reply to that. He's not sure if Frank's still a little serious about it.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Frank asks after a beat.

Deciding he should at least say something to look like he's not going to be stalking Frank, Gerard answers, "Might go see a movie. Want to come?"

Frank looks around the park for a long moment. "Yeah, sure. Nothing better to do."

"Yeah," Gerard says quietly.

"You have my number?"

Gerard nods and stands up, reaching down to pull Frank to his feet as well. Frank's hands are warm and he takes a second too long to let go.

***

Frank sees Gerard's tangled mess of black hair from across the street. He walks up quietly and taps Gerard on the shoulder, grinning when Gerard jumps in surprise.

"Hey! Uh, hope you don't mind, I bought you a ticket already. Didn't want it to sell out while I was waiting for you."

Gerard holds out a movie ticket and Frank takes it carefully out of his hand. "No, it's cool, thanks. What are we seeing?"

"The original Halloween. Seemed like your kind of thing."

"My birthday's on Halloween," Frank says. " _Totally_ my kind of thing."

Gerard's answering smile is a lot softer than Frank expected, but he's pleased to see it anyway. He takes Gerard's arm and pulls him toward the door.

"Come on. You bought the tickets, I'll buy the popcorn."

***

After the movie, Frank follows Gerard as they walk aimlessly through the streets. He loves the city at night, the way all the lights make the sky glow a little. He's getting the feeling Gerard likes it too.

"You hungry?" Gerard asks, after they've walked a few blocks from the theater.

Frank doesn't bother answering. Gerard leads him to a little Italian restaurant and requests a table for two. It's hard for Italian restaurants not to look romantic, with the candles and the cursive font on the menus. Frank licks his lips nervously. This feels like a real date.

"You totally planned this," Frank says, smiling to take the edge off. Gerard shrugs and gives him an innocent look.

The waiter comes over and asks what they'd like to drink, and Frank glances at the menu then up at Gerard. "Bottle of wine?" he asks.

Gerard meets his eyes steadily. "I actually don't drink anymore." He turns to the waiter. "I'll just have water, please."

Frank can't think of anything to say, so he stares back down at his menu. The waiter's hovering beside him, waiting on his order.

"You can have it if you want, Frank," Gerard says softly.

"Make that two waters, thanks," Frank tells the waiter, so they can finally be left alone again. He looks up at Gerard and raises an eyebrow questioningly.

"I had a rough time for a while," Gerard answers simply. "I was in a bad place, and I thought drinking would help. It didn't, so I don't try anymore."

Frank still doesn't know what to say. He's not sure what the etiquette is, how to respond to a story like that. Is it appropriate to say _I'm sorry_? He finally settles on, "Thanks for telling me," which is honest, at least.

"You didn't have to do that for me, Frank, it doesn't bother me."

Frank rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna sit here and drink in front of you."

"Suit yourself."

"I am."

Gerard looks down and fiddles with the corner of his cloth napkin, and Frank can see a hint of a smile at the edges of Gerard's mouth.

"So," Frank says, changing the subject awkwardly, "apparently my friend Bob and your ex-boyfriend are dating again."

"Each other?" Gerard asks with wide eyes.

Frank gives him a look. " _Yes_ , Gerard, why else would I have mentioned it?"

"I didn't expect Brian to move so fast."

"What do you mean?" Frank asks, cocking his head.

"When Brian and I got together, we were both kind of on the rebound, which is probably why it didn't work out between us. He needed to get over his old college boyfriend—Bob, apparently—and I'd just broken up with a crazy girlfriend so I needed to get my life back in order, and, well. You know how organized Brian is. I thought he could help, and he did. I think it was what we both needed."

"I didn't know you dated girls," Frank chuckles.

"Of course _that's_ what you focus on. Man, she was insane. Like, legit crazy and obsessive. I had to get a fucking restraining order. She even started stalking Mikey." Gerard shakes his napkin out of its creative folds with a violent snap.

"That's pretty fucked up. Why the hell did you…" Frank trails off, because he thinks he knows.

"I was pretty fucked up, at the time," Gerard replies simply, and Frank nods.

"You're better now," he says, not a question.

Gerard grins. "So I'm told."

It's late and the restaurant isn't very busy, so they take their time. Even after spending a few days with Gerard, Frank is surprised at how easy it is to talk to him, and how much they have in common, despite their differences. Gerard is charming, smart, pretty damn nerdy, all the things Frank looks for in friends and, yeah, boyfriends. By the time the candle at their table burns itself out, Frank finds himself wishing things were a little bit different.

Gerard snags the check, when it comes. Frank wrinkles his nose, but Gerard shakes his head sternly.

"You're unemployed and it's my fault, let me get this. Besides, you were right, I totally planned this dinner. My treat, okay?"

"I'm taking you out for coffee tomorrow," Frank counters, and Gerard breaks into a smile.

"I have an idea, actually."

Frank waits, but Gerard doesn't continue. Gerard pays the bill, they don their jackets and head out the door, and Gerard insists on walking Frank back to his apartment. They don't speak the entire time, but the silence is weirdly companionable.

"What's your idea?" Frank finally asks as they approach his building.

"Come to my store, Frankie," Gerard requests softly.

Frank turns away. "I don't know if I can—"

"Please," Gerard interrupts. "Frank. I want to show it to you. I want to explain, I want you to understand why."

"Why what?"

"Why I don't have a little shop like yours. Please, Frank. There's a coffee shop on the first floor. Meet me there tomorrow. You don't have to stay long, if you don't want to."

Frank really never intended to go inside Gerard's store. Ever. The whole idea of it still makes him want to punch Gerard in the face, and things were going so well between them. Gerard doesn't say anything more, but when Frank looks at him, he realizes he can't refuse. Frank nods, not trusting his voice, and turns around to go inside.

He closes the door behind him and looks through the window. Gerard waves goodbye. Frank waves back before he can talk himself out of it.

***

Frank shows up at the store in a black hoodie with the hood pulled up, his hands stuffed in his pockets, and an unhappy expression on his face. He looks like a teenager about to steal something. Gerard watches Frank's face as he takes in the large, open space and the aisles of books, and finally, the grand staircase to the second and third floors. Frank's eyes eventually catch on Gerard and he peels himself away from the banister to greet him.

Frank doesn't take his hands out of his pockets. His shoulders are hunched up a bit, and Gerard had no idea this would be so uncomfortable for him.

"Well, I'm here," Frank mutters.

With an encouraging smile, Gerard takes Frank by the elbow and leads him toward the café. "You still gonna buy me coffee?"

"Deal's a deal," Frank says.

They give their orders and move to the line in front of the register. "You don't have to pay," Gerard murmurs under his breath.

"Fuck you," Frank replies stiffly. He pays for the coffee and tells the barista to keep the change. She glances at Gerard, uncertain, and he rolls his eyes and nods at her to keep it.

Gerard lets Frank choose the table and waits for him to sit down before pulling out the opposite chair.

"So why am I here?"

Gerard's a little put off by Frank's hostile attitude, but he smiles and tries not to let it affect him. "I want to tell you a story about me and Mikey when we were kids. Will you listen?"

Frank nods grudgingly.

"We weren't all that popular in school, as you can probably imagine," Gerard begins. "We both skipped class a lot, stayed in our rooms most weekends, things like that. After a while, my parents kind of got fed up with us. They said we needed to go out and make friends, have fun, go to parties… They basically wouldn't let us stay home all the time."

"You're like the opposite of runaways," Frank says wryly.

"Yeah, totally. And we were nerds, Frank. We went to the library. We'd hang out there for a few hours, go home, and pretend we'd been out with our friends." Gerard catches the ghost of a smile on Frank's face and he goes after it. "I was the biggest loser _ever_ , all through high school. I'm sure it's not hard to picture."

"It's not."

"Thank you. So me and Mikey spent a lot of time together, reading books. Lots of comic books, lots of young adult stuff. Sometimes I'd read them aloud to him, because he said he liked when I did the voices."

Frank's actively trying to contain his smile, now, and Gerard's pretty sure he's won this round.

"We both went to college in New York, and we came home one summer and found out the library near our house had closed. It turned into a fucking strip mall or something. So we started looking for a place in New York to start up a store just for us. Well, everyone, obviously, but it was like, to pay homage to that library where we basically grew up together.

"That store went through… I think three expansions? And sometime during that, Mikey met Alicia and moved back to Jersey, and I kind of decided to follow them home. We were lucky to have enough money to start up this place. I think it's obvious why we did, right?"

Frank nods and glances around a little. Gerard stands up and offers Frank his hand.

"Walk with me? I'll give you the grand tour."

Frank allows Gerard to pull him to his feet.

They wander through the first-floor shelves together, pausing occasionally to pull out a book and glance at the cover. When they reach one of the cozy little seating areas, Frank gestures around them.

"Why this? Why not a shop like mine?"

Gerard flops into one of the cushy chairs, holding his coffee aloft so it doesn't spill. "I had a lot of trouble deciding what I wanted to do with my life," he says. "For a while, I wanted to draw, but I didn't have the patience. Then I wanted to write. Mikey's always said I'm a good storyteller—"

"You are."

"—but I guess I didn't have a knack for putting words down on paper. I've gone through so many books, taken so many classes, trying to figure myself out. My problem was that I was interested in _everything_ , so I couldn't narrow it down."

Frank shrugs, looking confused. He perches on the arm of another chair.

"I wanted this place to have everything. The New York store isn't as organized, since it started much smaller, but I planned this one. With Brian's help. I wanted it to have everything I like, everything anybody likes, because I want everyone to feel comfortable here. I want everyone to have a place like me and Mikey did, where we could explore and grow up, and I was tired of being the fucking outcast, so I made it a place for people."

Gerard feels his cheeks flush and looks down quickly. Mikey's really the only person he's told that story to, and since Mikey was there for most of it, he doesn't count. He stays quiet, waiting for Frank's response. It takes a long time to come.

"I like…" he begins slowly, "that you know what you want, even if not knowing is what made you realize it. I like that you're obviously passionate about it."

"What don't you like?" Gerard asks hesitantly.

"I don't know what I want," Frank admits in a whisper. "I've never been passionate about anything the way you are about this place."

Frank gets to his feet and turns his back on Gerard before he can think of a reply. Gerard lurches out of the chair and stumbles after him, still searching for words.

Frank obviously doesn't want to talk, though. He pulls a book off the shelf and hands it to Gerard when he catches up. "Have you read it?" he asks.

Gerard looks down to read the title. "No. You?"

Frank shrugs. "Thought I'd ask."

Gerard puts the book back with a sigh and Frank moves on.

"I think I should go," Frank says. They're nearing the exit, and white noise of the busy store comes back into focus. Gerard catches Frank by the arm and holds him still.

"Finish your coffee with me," he murmurs. "Don't leave yet."

Frank shakes his cup so Gerard can hear the muted rattle of liquid. "Not much left."

Gerard holds up his own and shakes it in reply. "I do. Stay with me. I want to ask you about your internet boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend," Frank groans, rolling his eyes. He follows Gerard to the café again.

"But you want him to be, don't you?" Gerard presses.

"We haven't even met yet!"

"Why not?"

"I've been too busy hanging out with _you_."

"Is that so terrible?"

Frank gives him a look. "Don't make me say yes."

"Okay, okay, calm down," Gerard says, flapping his hand at Frank.

"I'm gonna meet him soon. We just haven't figured out when and where. He's the one with the suddenly busy schedule," Frank explains quietly. He drains the rest of his coffee and stands up to throw away the cup.

"What's his username?" Gerard asks on a whim.

"Why?" Frank asks suspiciously.

"Calm down, I'm not gonna email him. I just want to know."

"Coffee Addict," Frank says in a low voice. He glances at the gigantic paper cup in Gerard's hand and laughs. "He kind of reminds me of—"

Gerard holds his breath, chanting _Finish the sentence, finish the sentence_ desperately in his head.

But Frank just shakes off the thought and says, "Never mind. I have to go, okay? Thanks for the tour."

"No problem."

Frank scratches his head, looking quite suddenly very uncomfortable. "Thanks for the story," he says under his breath. "I… I appreciate it."

"Thanks for listening," Gerard tells him sincerely.

Frank nods, waving at Gerard but refusing to meet his eyes, and hurries out of the shop, leaving Gerard to finish his coffee alone.

***

 _I don't want to pressure you or anything, but I really want to meet you. I know I can talk to you, and you're such an awesome person, I just really want to see if we click as well in person as we do online. I've been so confused, lately, about what I feel for someone, but I know how I feel for you and I just need to know that connection is real._

Don't freak out. I think I'm falling in love with you.

Gerard rubs his eyes tiredly. Frank is falling for him in real life, maybe has already fallen for him; he can't keep up this charade much longer. It's torture, lying to Frank's face like he is, and it's high time he ended it. He just hopes Frank will forgive him.

 _I'm dying to meet you, Frankenstein. I'm so sorry my schedule's been shit. But I'm free tomorrow, and I know a place. There's a little courtyard with a fountain, on 7th Street. Meet me there at 4:00 tomorrow? Let's not dance around it, this time. I'll be there, waiting for you, by the fountain. I hope you won't be disappointed._

He pushes away from the computer and calls Frank.

***

"We can't hang out all day," Frank says as he locks his apartment door behind him. "I'm meeting someone later."

"Oh really?" Gerard leers, hitting the button to call the elevator. "Don't tell me you finally got a date with your virtual boyfriend."

"As a matter of fact, I did," Frank replies smugly. They go into the elevator and Frank jabs the button three times before it lights up. "And he suggested it, too."

"Liar."

"Hey!"

"You begged him to meet, didn't you?" Gerard teases. Frank doesn't want to let on how close that is to the truth, so he shoves Gerard into the elevator wall.

"Bastard."

"Asshole."

The doors open, letting them out into the lobby.

"So where are we going?"

"I figure we could hit that comic book shop over on Liberty, maybe swing by a Starbucks on the way back," Gerard suggests, and Frank nods his acquiescence.

The hours pass quickly—too quickly for Frank's liking. All too soon, it's three in the afternoon and they're heading back to Frank's apartment.

Gerard is quiet as he walks. Frank stays half a step behind him, watching Gerard's profile, the way he tucks his hair behind his ears. Every time Gerard glances back, Frank stares quickly down at his own feet.

"Lost in thought?" Gerard finally asks.

"Kind of," Frank admits.

"Worried about meeting your guy?"

Frank shrugs. He is, a little. He's nervous, but he figures that's normal. He's mostly worried about Gerard, really. He's worried about falling in love with Gerard. He's afraid it might be too late to worry about that.

"You'll be fine," Gerard says gently. "If he's a dick, just tell him to fuck off. Or punch him in the face. I suspect you'd be good at that."

"Yeah, I think I would."

"You'll be fine," Gerard says again. They fall silent for another block and a half, then Gerard speaks again. He sounds hesitant, almost scared. "Do you think you'll get together with him?"

"I don't know," Frank replies honestly. "I don't know how he feels about me."

"How do you feel about him?"

"I wouldn't say no," Frank hedges.

"You haven't even met him, Frank," Gerard says sadly.

"It doesn't matter. I _know_ him."

"But you _don't_ know him, and now you're practically in a relationship with him already."

Frank sighs. He knows exactly where Gerard's going with this conversation, and he can't let it happen. "Gerard, we can't be—"

"He's got you convinced you won't love anybody like you love him."

"That's not true," Frank whispers.

"He's the perfect man for you. He says exactly the right thing, every time, and now you're in love with this person that's completely in your head."

"Stop."

"Frankie, what about—"

" _No_. Gee, I'm going home."

"I'm sorry," Gerard murmurs, bowing his head. "Let me walk you back; we're almost there."

Frank nudges Gerard's shoulder with his own and they start walking again. Gerard stuffs his hands into the pockets of his tight pants and Frank crosses his arms, snuggling into his hoodie. By the time they get back to Frank's apartment, the silence isn't quite as awkward.

"Thanks for walking me back," Frank offers.

"Glad to," Gerard replies.

"Okay, well. I'll see you later, then. Let you know how it goes."

Frank's just about to turn around and head up the steps to his door when Gerard says, "Frank, wait," and catches his arm. Gerard's hand slides down from Frank's elbow to his wrist, and then he slowly takes Frank's hand.

"The day we met," he says, his thumb drifting lightly over Frank's knuckles.

Frank stares down at their joined hands. He can't look up, hearing that pained tone in Gerard's voice. He can't look up and see the face that matches it. "I know," he replies quietly.

"You didn't know who I was."

Gerard strokes up and down Frank's fingers, one at a time. Frank's breath catches in his throat. It's unbelievably intimate, and Frank doesn't know how to respond. Gerard just holds Frank's hand and opens his mouth like he's about to speak, but nothing comes out.

"Gerard…"

"If I wasn't—"

"It doesn't matter. You _are_ Gerard Way."

"It matters, Frank."

"Gee, I can't do this right now," Frank says desperately. He can't quite bring himself to pull his hand out of Gerard's grasp. "I'm going to be late," he tries.

Gerard lets go of his hand and Frank looks up in time to see him nod sadly. "Wear your Frankenstein shirt. It looks good on you."

Frank gives him a weak smile. "I will. Thanks."

"I'll see you, Frankie."

Frank watches him turn around and walk down the street, back the way they came. He doesn't go into his building until he sees Gerard turn the corner and disappear.

***


	4. Chapter 4

Frank sets out again half an hour later, wearing his Frankenstein t-shirt, a pair of jeans that actually don't have holes in them, and his fingerless skeleton gloves. His hands are shaking as he pulls them on.

He vaguely knows the courtyard and the fountain Coffee Addict mentioned; he's pretty sure it belongs to a hotel or an apartment building. He speed-walks until he's a block away and then stops to light a cigarette.

Gerard's sad face won't leave his mind. He turns around, like Gerard will be there, behind him. Waiting. But of course he's not.

Frank sucks in the smoke and finishes his cigarette quickly, scraping it out on the brick wall beside him and then squashing it under his toe for good measure. Fuck, he hopes he doesn't smell like an ashtray. He digs into his pockets, but he doesn't have any gum or anything, just pocket lint.

He thinks, stupidly, _Gerard wouldn't care if I smelled like an ashtray_.

Frank wipes his hands on his jeans and takes a deep breath, and then he walks the last block.

As he draws closer, he sees a figure sitting on the rim of the fountain, head bowed and hands clasped between his knees. He's wearing a jean jacket and sinfully tight black pants, and his shoes are scuffed. His hair is actually brushed, for once, and Frank realizes it can only be—

"Gee?"

Gerard looks up.

Frank takes a few steps closer, but stops several feet away from Gerard, who stands up smoothly.

"Hi, Frankie."

"You're…?"

Gerard nods.

Frank can't stop the rush of memories in his head; the things he told Gerard online and in person, the things Gerard told him… He meets Gerard's gaze and smiles hesitantly.

"You didn't stand me up at the coffee shop."

"I didn't."

Frank takes an involuntary step forward. "You didn't say anything. Why did you lie to me?"

Gerard opens his mouth to reply but Frank cuts him off.

"Never mind," he says. "I was such a dick to you. I would've lied too."

"I didn't want to lie to you, Frank. It was so hard to—"

"Then why did you?"

Gerard takes a step forward, so they're standing almost toe-to-toe. "I didn't want to lose you," he murmurs, reaching for Frank's hands. "I'm in love with you, Frank."

Frank draws in a shuddery breath. "Oh, god."

"You're not gonna cry, are you?" Gerard teases gently.

"Fuck you," Frank replies. "Fuck you, Gee, fuck you for making me fall in love with you."

"I can't apologize for that."

"You're such a bastard," Frank says, ignoring the fact that there are tears in his eyes. He hopes Gerard will ignore them too. "I fucking love you too."

Gerard, the asshole, reaches up and swipes his thumb under Frank's eye, brushing away the wetness there. He leaves his hand on Frank's cheek.

"You fucking asshole," Frank says. He grabs Gerard's shoulder and leans in, and their lips crash together in that hard, desperate way that's almost painful. Gerard's hands cradle Frank's head, tilting him to one side and then the other, holding him close and warm and perfect.

After an eternity of kissing in front of the fountain, Gerard puts a few inches of distance between them to whisper, "This is my building, Frankie. Would you come up with me?"

Frank's too busy staring into Gerard's eyes to formulate an answer, so Gerard continues, "I mean, just to talk, we need to—"

"Yes, Gee, yes, take me upstairs," Frank interrupts quickly.

Gerard brushes his lips against Frank's cheek, just under his eye, where his skin is still a little wet. Frank turns his head and leans up as Gerard's pulling away, so their lips slide together again, just for a second.

After a moment, Frank blinks his eyes open again and finds Gerard smiling softly, waiting for him. He takes Gerard's hand.

The entrance to the building is just on the other side of the fountain, and a doorman opens the large, glass door for them. They step inside and Frank stops short, staring around at the huge granite-floored lobby.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes. A pretty girl behind the front desk gives him a dirty look.

"Shut up," Gerard mutters in his ear. He gives Frank a nudge towards the far wall. "Get in the elevator, motherfucker."

The elevator's an express to the penthouse, and Gerard has to use a key to even press the button. Frank has to restrain himself pretty forcefully from making fun of Gerard again. The elevator ride isn't very long; Gerard keeps a hold of Frank's hand and kisses him gently at the corner of his jaw. The butterflies in Frank's stomach feel like they're trying to fly up into his throat. He coughs.

Gerard lifts his head to smile at him.

Frank kind of has to reach up and touch Gerard's lips, then. Gerard kisses his fingertips.

"Come on, Frank," he whispers, tugging Frank's other hand.

Frank looks around and sees that the elevator doors have opened. He follows Gerard out into the foyer, and then into the apartment.

"Wow," Frank says. "I think my whole place could fit into your living room."

"It's not _that_ much bigger," Gerard mumbles.

"I'm kidding. It's cool." He squeezes Gerard's hand.

"Um," Gerard begins nervously, "we should probably talk about this—"

"No."

"What, no?"

"No, Gee, I don't want to talk about it. I don't know how to talk about it yet, okay? I just want you to kiss me again, because that's one thing I know how I feel about."

He pulls Gerard around so they're standing toe-to-toe again, the tips of his sneakers against the scuff marks of Gerard's boots. He looks down and nudges Gerard's foot with his own.

"Frank, we really need to talk—"

Frank looks up; Gerard falls silent. "Later? Please?"

Frank's not sure if Gerard is aware of it, but they're both leaning in, balancing their weight on their toes, about to fall into each other. "Okay," Gerard breathes. "Later."

Frank lets himself tilt just that little bit more and Gerard catches him with his arms tight around Frank's waist. Frank laces his fingers through Gerard's hair and pulls Gerard in until their lips meet. He can feel every fingertip Gerard presses into the small of his back; he pushes back into Gerard's grip, and suddenly, Gerard's hand moves and slips beneath the hem of Frank's t-shirt, his warm palm finally sliding against Frank's bare skin.

Gerard brings his hands all the way up to Frank's shoulderblades but doesn't make any move to actually take Frank's shirt off. Frank lifts his arms and yanks the thing over his head himself.

"Oh," Gerard says in surprise. He lays one of his hands flat against Frank's chest. "I've thought about your tattoos since the moment I met you. I didn't know you had so many."

"I'll show you the rest if you show me your bedroom," Frank replies softly.

Gerard leads Frank to the bedroom. It's bigger than Frank's own, of course, and it has an amazing view of the city, but Frank doesn't let himself get distracted. He kicks off his shoes and socks, shucks his jeans and his briefs in one go, and climbs up to kneel on the bed, facing Gerard.

Gerard hasn't moved, not even to take off his shirt. His arms hang at his sides, both hands curled into tight fists.

"You just gonna stand there, Gee?" Frank asks.

Jogged out of his trance, Gerard scrambles to get his shoes, jacket, and shirt off all at once. He clambers up on the bed after Frank, still in his ridiculously tight pants.

"Gee, I just," Frank murmurs, his hands flying to Gerard's waistband. He's not sure what he intended with that sentence, so he tries again. "Gerard…"

"Yeah," Gerard answers, and his voice sounds like Frank's: soft and a little disbelieving. "Frankie, I've wanted this—"

"So much," Frank finishes. "I want you so much, Gee."

Frank finally manages to get Gerard's button undone and the zipper pulled down, and Gerard helps him work the pants down to his knees, but that's as far as Frank's focus lasts. He pushes Gerard down on the bed and bends over him, one hand palming Gerard's cock eagerly through his underwear and the other resting gently on Gerard's stomach.

"God," Gerard gasps, "get 'em off, please, Frankie, touch me."

Frank slides the tips of his fingers beneath the elastic and slowly draws it down over Gerard's dick and all the way to Gerard's knees, to keep his pants company. Finally, Gerard's naked. Frank sits back on his heels for a moment to take in the sight.

Gerard's skin is so unlike his own, so pale and perfectly unblemished. Frank almost feels dirty in comparison, with tattoos and scars all over his body. He reaches out with one hand and gently smoothes it over Gerard's thigh, sliding up to his hip.

"You're so perfect," Frank whispers, ignoring the embarrassed shake of Gerard's head.

He bends over Gerard and kisses the curve of his stomach, holding Gerard still with the hand on his hip. Gerard lifts one hand and rests it on Frank's shoulder. He doesn't try to nudge Frank in the direction of his cock or anything, but Gerard's thighs are tense with the effort of staying still. Frank grins up at him and ducks his head lower, kissing the base of Gerard's cock and then taking him into his mouth.

Gerard sounds utterly surprised when he says, "Oh, fuck, Frank!" which Frank finds a little hilarious, because seriously, what else did Gerard think he was going to do down there? Frank watches Gerard's face for a moment, then gives up and closes his eyes, losing himself in the feel of Gerard's cock on his tongue.

Gerard's hands slide up to Frank's hair and he kind of scratches at Frank's scalp a little, like he's petting him. Frank's eyes flicker open for a second and he looks up as much as he can without pulling off. Gerard's head is thrown back and he's panting, gasping out wordless noises. Frank shifts over and straddles one of Gerard's legs to get a better angle, and moves his hand to wrap around the base of Gerard's dick.

When Frank slides his tongue over that spot just below the head of Gerard's cock, two things happen in quick succession. Gerard shouts and his fingers twist and tangle in Frank's hair, which Frank really doesn't mind. Gerard's knee also jerks up, catching Frank right in the soft place on his stomach, just beneath his ribs.

Frank pulls off, gasping for breath. "Jesus Christ, Gee."

"Oh, fuck, Frank, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Gerard says quickly, pushing himself upright to run his hands all over Frank's torso, searching for the wound.

"It's fine, just, y'know, ow."

"I'm sorry! Fuck. I'm really sorry," Gerard continues. His roaming fingers are almost tickling Frank now, and he fights not to laugh. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry!"

"Of course you didn't mean to, asshole," Frank laughs, batting Gerard's hands away. They just come back, though, and this time Frank thinks it's because Gerard just doesn't want to stop touching him. He grins. "It's fine," he says, leaning in to kiss Gerard's worried frown.

Gerard's hands still when Frank deepens the kiss. Frank grasps Gerard's forearms and gently pushes him backwards until they're horizontal again. Gerard whispers, "Sorry," when they part for air, and Frank shakes his head.

"Shut up," he whispers back. "I want you to fuck me."

Gerard finally falls silent. He turns his head and nods toward the nightstand. "Top drawer."

Frank leans over and pulls open the drawer. A box of condoms, a tube of lubricant, a handful of pens, and what looks like a small journal are scattered inside, and Frank makes a mental note to look around more later. He feels like he knows Gerard so well, but there's still a lot he doesn't know. Frank grabs a condom and the lube and pushes them into Gerard's waiting hands.

He stops paying attention to what Gerard's doing and bends down to kiss him again, one hand holding himself up and the other sliding through Gerard's hair. Gerard returns the favor, tangling both hands in Frank's hair again, and Frank moans into his mouth.

Gerard starts to turn them over and Frank follows his lead, falling backwards to the bed that's—not there. He lets out a surprised cry and falls on his ass. He blinks open his eyes and sees Gerard hanging over the edge of the bed, looking so shocked and embarrassed and _sorry_ , and Frank has to put a stop to that before it even starts. He cracks up.

"Fucking hell," he says through the giggles, "what is it going to take to get your dick in my ass?"

Gerard opens his mouth, probably to start apologizing again.

"Shut up," Frank cuts him off. He reaches up and Gerard takes his hand so Frank can pull himself to his feet. He stands beside the bed for a moment, feeling the laughter die down in his chest, and carefully slides into bed next to Gerard.

"Let's try that again," he says quietly, and Gerard nods, finally smiling again.

Gerard slides a hand between their bodies, gently caressing Frank's side and hip and thigh, and Frank hooks one ankle over Gerard's calf, pulling them closer together. They roll over again, this time more carefully, and Frank spreads his legs so Gerard can rest between them. Everywhere Gerard touches him feels hot and tense; Frank's nearly vibrating with it, now that things are actually about to _happen_.

Frank's attention divides between the hot press of Gerard's cock against his thigh and Gerard's tentative, wet fingers sliding around his asshole. Frank rocks his hips, spreads his legs a little more, and Gerard pushes two fingers in at once, making Frank gasp and cling to Gerard's shoulders.

"Fuck," Gerard breathes, "Frankie, you look so good like this."

"More, come on, Gee, more," Frank replies in a strained voice. Gerard thrusts his fingers in and out a few more times before adding a third, and Frank yanks Gerard down for a bruising kiss.

After a moment, Gerard pulls his fingers out and Frank has a brief flash of _no, wait!_ and also _yes, finally!_ He shifts on the bed a little as Gerard sits up, relaxing against the soft comforter, and waits for Gerard to figure out the condom. He has an adorable expression of concentration as he looks down between them, clumps of black hair hanging in his face and his tongue poking out between his teeth, and Frank laughs, just a little bit. It's not even enough to distract Gerard from his task.

Frank keeps his hands on Gerard's skin, just gently stroking his upper arms and his side, and Gerard finally gets the condom on and his cock positioned at Frank's entrance. Frank licks his lips and catches Gerard's eye the second before he pushes in.

"I love you," Gerard whispers. Frank feels his lips stretch into a smile that he can't contain.

Gerard leans down and covers Frank's body with his own once he picks up a rhythm, framing Frank's head with his forearms and capturing his lips in a thorough kiss. Frank's cock slides slickly against Gerard's stomach, and everywhere their bodies touch feels just a little bit too hot and sweaty. Frank wraps his arms around Gerard's neck and breaks away from the kiss, panting for air.

He turns his head to the side and Gerard's mouth moves to Frank's throat, sucking at his pulse-point. Frank clings to him, arching up to meet Gerard's thrusts, and lets out a soft cry when Gerard's cock brushes over his prostate.

Gerard chuckles breathlessly and aims to hit that spot again. He ducks down and nips around the jut of Frank's collarbone; Frank drops one hand to the bed to wrap his hand in the sheet and clench it tightly.

"Oh, fuck, Gee," he manages, and that's all the warning Frank gives before he whites out and comes from only the friction of Gerard's body. He's not sure what kinds of things escape his mouth, but eventually he clamps down on vocalizing and focuses on breathing.

"God, you're amazing," he hears Gerard murmur, and then Gerard props himself up a little to get better leverage. Frank lets his other arm fall to the pillow and stretches languidly, arching his back and pushing his ass against Gerard. He's feeling pretty blissed out, and Gerard looks like he's about two seconds away from orgasm himself.

"Come on, Gee, fuck me," Frank says. He can't help the satisfied smile on his face, but it makes Gerard grin.

Gerard sits upright completely, nudging Frank's legs a little wider with both hands. His palms then fall to Frank's hips, holding him steady as he resumes thrusting at the same pace as before. It doesn't take him long to speed up, change the angle, and Frank wraps his legs around Gerard's back and hooks his ankles, pulling Gerard further into him with each thrust.

It's hard to focus but he keeps his eyes open to watch Gerard's face as he comes. Frank can feel the hot pulses of Gerard's cock in his ass and he moans in tandem with Gerard. Gerard's eyes are closed and he's panting heavily, and Frank can't look away.

Gerard stays upright until he catches his breath, pulls out of Frank, and grabs the box of tissues from the nightstand. Frank takes care of cleaning them both up and even gets out of bed to get rid of the condom and tissues. When he turns back around, Gerard's sprawled across the whole bed, eyes at half-mast. He flaps his hand, inviting Frank back in.

"Maybe get under the covers this time?" Frank asks, grinning when Gerard makes a big production of rearranging the blankets over his body. Frank slides in beside him and Gerard immediately curls up and pulls Frank in close. It's warm and so comfortable, and Frank gives in to sleep.

***

Gerard doesn't know how long he's been sleeping, but it doesn't feel like long enough. Frank isn't right there when he opens his eyes, though. Gerard rolls onto his back, blinking blearily, and finally sees Frank's silhouette at the foot of the bed. He's dragged the sheet down there with him, and it's draped over his lap and one arm, like it fell off his shoulder.

"Frank?"

Frank looks startled for a second, obviously oblivious to Gerard waking up.

"Okay?" Gerard asks hesitantly, pushing himself up on his elbows. Now that he's more conscious, he sees that Frank's expression isn't exactly pleased. When Frank doesn't answer, Gerard sits up all the way, leaning forward a bit to get closer to Frank.

"Frank, are you okay?" he asks again.

"Just thinking," Frank replies suddenly. Gerard doesn't know how to respond. After a pause, Frank continues. "I hated you so much…"

Gerard's heart leaps into his throat.

"I can't figure out if I was overreacting or not," Frank finishes. "I want to say that I was, but… God, I was so _angry_."

"You _were_ angry?" Gerard prompts carefully.

"That's the thing," Frank answers. "I don't know if I got over it. But I don't know how much of that was real, anyway."

"If you felt it, then it was real," Gerard says in a soft voice. He desperately doesn't want to upset Frank now, not when they're so close to really being together, but he can't lie. "I don't know if you were overreacting, because it didn't happen to me."

"I wanted it to be you," Frank murmurs. "I wanted it to be you so bad, even with how much I hated you. I wanted _you_ , since the moment you walked into my shop. What the hell does that say about me?"

"That you know what you want?" Gerard tries.

Frank stays quiet for a moment. Gerard watches the steady rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes deeply.

"I think I was overreacting," Frank finally says. "I think it was partly just me denying that I wanted you when I shouldn't. I couldn't want you, but I did anyway, and…"

"And that pissed you off."

"Yeah. Oh god, Gee, I'm so sorry. I was awful to you."

Gerard shakes his head. "Don't apologize to me, Frank. I feel so bad for what I did—"

"It wasn't personal. It wasn't, I know that. It's business. I shouldn't have gotten so defensive. I should've just…"

"You should've just what, Frank, rolled over and let me steamroll you? No. No, you shouldn't have. You fought for yourself, and it was amazing. It doesn't matter that you didn't win, you went down fighting."

"I guess."

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your shop. I know it meant a lot to you, your family."

Frank shrugs, looking defeated. "I just gotta find something else to do with my life."

Gerard reaches out and puts his hand gently on Frank's shoulder. "You'll figure it out," he says confidently. "I know you won't accept help, but… I'm here. I want to be here for you."

"I love you, Gerard. I _hated_ hating you. I can't do it anymore."

Gerard pulls Frank into a tight embrace. "I love you, too."

***

Frank spends a lot of time—a lot of nights—with Gerard over the next couple of weeks, but he keeps going home afterwards. Jepha's pretty much completely moved out, and Frank suspects he took a few of Frank's t-shirts with him, so Frank has the place to himself. He logs onto his computer sparingly; now that he knows Coffee Addict is Gerard, they don't need to email to talk to each other. It's better, really, talking to Gerard in person. Frank even goes back to some of their early correspondences and reads them with Gerard's voice and fluttering hands in mind.

Overall, Frank thinks he's pretty happy. He doesn't have a job, but he's not desperate for one yet. He has a boyfriend he loves and who loves him. He still has a generous supplier for his book habit, and Jepha left a huge stack of CDs for him in the living room.

Frank grabs his jacket and the two hardcover books on loan from the store and heads out the door. He follows the same path he always took to work, and he lets himself enjoy the fresh air and the liveliness of the city. He doesn't go down the street to see the shop's empty, dark windows and instead turns toward the large entrance to _Way Books & Café_.

He stays on the first floor, taking the books into the café and ordering a large mug of coffee. After several minutes, Mikey Way sits down across from him.

"Hey, Frank," he says cautiously.

"Hey, Mikey," Frank echoes. "I'm supposed to meet Gerard, is he around?"

"He's meeting with Brian."

"Cool. I guess I'll wait here."

Mikey nods. He doesn't ask if Frank minds the company, he just orders his own coffee and settles in with his phone held up in front of his face. The silence is oddly companionable. Frank's lips quirk up into a small smile and he flips open the book.

Eventually Mikey stands up and jerks his thumb towards the grand staircase. "He's on his way," Mikey says, and turns to leave.

"Hey, Mikey," Frank calls after him. Mikey looks back over his shoulder expectantly. "Tell Alicia hi for me."

Gerard appears behind Frank in time to see Mikey's almost imperceptible smile. Mikey leaves without a word and Gerard sits down in his vacated chair.

"What was that about?"

"Bonding."

Gerard rolls his eyes, but Frank can tell he's pleased.

"Do you have to work the rest of today?"

"Yeah," Gerard replies apologetically. "Sorry, I hope you weren't waiting long. I think I can get away early, maybe. We could do dinner tonight. I can't really stay long now, though."

Frank shrugs it off. "Sure, whatever works. I might stop in and see Ray and Bob while I'm here."

Gerard takes a sip of Frank's coffee and stands up, kissing the top of Frank's head. "Brian told me he and Bob are thinking of getting an apartment together, closer to here."

Frank cranes his neck to meet Gerard's eyes. "Wow, really? Already?"

"I know, right?" Gerard laughs. "Must be something in the air. You should talk to Bob, see what's up. I gotta go, Frankie."

"Okay, I will. I'll see you tonight."

Gerard dashes off again. Frank can't concentrate on his book anymore, and he needs to give back the other one anyway. He pays for the coffee and meanders through the bookshelves, heading towards the classics section.

Ray's talking to a customer, but he gives Frank a cheerful wave as he passes. Bob pops out to greet him a moment later.

"Frank!"

"Hey, I came to return this," Frank says, holding out the book. Bob takes it and scans the title, then motions for Frank to follow him as he puts it back on the shelf. "I heard you and Brian are shopping for an apartment," Frank adds, under his breath.

Bob stops short and Frank nearly runs into him. "We're thinking about it," he replies slowly. "Why?"

"Moving fast, aren't you?"

"We never really stopped being together," Bob mutters. "We just weren't _together_ for a few years. We're just picking up where we left off."

"I guess I should congratulate you, then."

"Yeah, I think so. What about you and Gerard Way?"

Frank shrugs. "Things are good."

"Good?"

"I'm kind of in love with him." It's not the first time Frank's said so in public, but it still feels like something new and exciting.

Bob gives him a rare, soft smile. "What can you do, right?"

***

Gerard comes home one afternoon to find Frank on the living room floor, surrounded by CD cases, the stereo blasting. He drops his coat over the back of a chair and sits down on the floor just outside the circle of CDs.

"What'cha doing?"

"Just listening." Frank grabs the remote and turns the volume down by about half. "Jepha left me a bunch of albums I've never heard of, wanted to check them out."

"What are the piles?"

"Total crap, boring but decent, guilty pleasure, pretty awesome, and favorites," Frank says, pointing them out. The favorites pile is the biggest, which makes Gerard smile.

Frank picks up the remote again and pauses the music. The sudden quiet is almost deafening until Frank speaks. "Did I ever tell you I started a band in high school?"

Gerard tries to think back through all the email conversations, where Frank was most open with him, but he can't remember anything about a band. He's pretty sure he would've remembered. He shakes his head.

"I think I figured out what I want to do," Frank says quietly. "When I was a kid, before I started working at the shop all the time, I wanted to be in a band. That was my dream."

"I like that dream," Gerard replies softly. He's not certain what Frank wants to hear, if he's fishing for anything at all. Sometimes Frank just likes to think out loud, and it takes Gerard a while to recognize that for what it is.

"I brought my guitar over," Frank continues.

"I didn't know you had one."

"I haven't played it in… years, I don't know."

"But you want to now?" Gerard prompts. He breaks into a smile when Frank nods. "I'm really glad," he admits. "I just wanted you to find something you wanted to do."

Frank lifts his chin. "I did."

"Plus, you know, I've always thought guitarists were pretty sexy…"

Frank bursts into laughter. "Of course you do."

"I'm just saying, should you ever play your guitar for me, I might be forced to suck your dick."

"Oh, really?"

"It's been known to happen."

Frank giggles. "Wait a second. Whose dick have you been sucking?"

"No one!" Gerard cries, and Frank laughs again. Gerard tackles him and they fall backwards to the floor. Frank is still laughing when Gerard pins him. "Yours," Gerard corrects.

Frank hooks his ankle over Gerard's calf and rubs tantalizingly up to Gerard's thigh. "I put my guitar in your bedroom."

  
 _fin_.


End file.
